Perditus in mala somnia
by Chaed
Summary: The Spencer Estate should have marked the end of Umbrella's legacy, but instead turns into a gruesome replay of '98. For every nightmare revisited Chris and Jill lose a bit more of the luck they exploited eight years ago. And when they draw on empty...
1. Chapter I

**perditus in mala somnia**  
lost in nightmares

**by:** notanotherfanficauthor & Chaed

**Rating:** M (for later chapters)

**Disclaimer:** Capcom made the soup and we put the salt into it.

**A/N:** This story is based on the roleplay of Lost in Nightmares, with the characters Chris Redfield (notanotherfanficauthor) and Jill Valentine (Chaed). Don't let yourself be fooled and presume that this is a simple novelization of the mini-game. It's far more than that. It has more plot, gore and tragedy than Capcom would have ever dared to put in it. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 1

The mansion looming before them, the scent of greenery and death, the heavy night air which clung to them like a sick sweat. He didn't even need to close his eyes to feel himself pulled back to 1998 and the day everything changed forever. The moon threw bizarre shadows on the ground, the canopy around them alive like ghosts from the past. The only thing missing was the sound the chopper, the shouts of his teammates and the barking of dogs.

And of course, the curt order from his trusted Captain to head for shelter in the place which would eventually become a tomb to so many of his friends.

But this wasn't Raccoon City. His home town had long since been wiped off the map. This was different. This time Wesker, not STARS, was the prey and he'd be damned if Spencer wasn't going to lead them right to the bastard.

Chris felt his back teeth grind together, his fists clenching at the thought of the double agent.

"You sure you want to see this through?"

Jill's voice pulled him out of his reverie. He was so lost in his memories of Arklay that he half expected to see her wearing the STARS beret, her short hair framing her face, instead of the BSAA cap which hid the ponytail she'd grown. A set of rapid blinks brought him back to the present.

He let out a forced laugh."Sure thing, partner. You've seen one creepy mansion, you've seen 'em all. Let's check in with HQ and get this over with."

Chris knew that his flippant façade was fooling no one. Jill had been on one mission too many with him to buy his easy-going attitude. But at least she had the good grace not to call him out on his bullshit. After all this was more than a normal mission for both of them.

Pressing the radio to her ear Jill patched herself through to HQ. From where he was standing the line sounded shaky and, somehow, that made the whole sense of foreboding that little bit more tangible.

"HQ, this is Eagle One. We're preparing to infiltrate the building. Signal might be weak inside, but we'll keep in touch. Over."

When HQ transmitted a thumbs up, Jill nodded and checked her gun.

"Let's move."

They mastered the last hundred metres without encountering any hurdles, which did nothing to appease Chris' sense of suspision. If Spencer truly lived here, where were all the cameras, the traps, the guards? The castle-like building looked completely deserted to him.

_Just like Arklay did, _he reminded himself. _And that was a beacon of false hope._

They jogged up to the entrance, stopping in front of the massive oak doors. Jill turned the knob. Neither of them was surprised when it didn't budge. If anything at all it calmed Chris a bit. Finding the mansion completely open would have reeked of a set up.

He glanced at Jill as she fumbled in one of her pockets, producing a familiar set of different sized and shaped wires.

"Let's see if I still live up to my old nickname, shall we?"

Chris couldn't help but grin. Good old Barry and his less than stellar way with words. Damn if he didn't miss the old-timer. He was glad Barry was out of the fight and safe with his wife and kids. The Burtons were another good reason to put Albert Wesker in the fucking ground after what he'd done to that family.

"Right." He kept his weapon raised, scanning the vast expanse of forest for any sign of a threat.

He was trying to keep things light, to choke down the memories and the rage and everything that this place evoked in him. "Not even a lone zombie dog. Spencer sure has let his guard drop in his old age."

Or, more likely, he simply wasn't here. But he _had_ to be. Chris was done chasing lead after empty lead. If this one turned out to be a bust as well, he felt as though he might lose it once and for all.

Giving him a nod of agreement, Jill gestured towards the door. A shared glance, a moment to ease the sense of apprehension, to wipe his sweating palms on his combat trousers.

Here began the horror. Full concentration was needed.

Jill unlocked the doors with a few skillful turns of her tools. Lockpicking was a science Chris had never felt attracted to. Jill couldn't get enough challenges.

They charged into the mansion then, Jill to the left and Chris to the right. His arms turned to lead as he recognised where they were. He stood dumbfounded for a moment, his heart working overtime.

"You've got to be kidding me..." Jill whispered beside him.

They'd stepped through a time warp, right back into '98, into the Spencer Mansion in the Arklay Forest that surrounded Raccoon City.

"Holy shit," Chris observed simply as their footfall echoed loudly in the grand mainhall of a perfect replica of the source of his nightmares.

He felt pearls of cold sweat materialize on his forehead as he pictured his younger self, over by the banisters at the staircase, panting for breath with no idea of what horrors were to come. Now, eight years later on a different continent he found himself right back at square one. The same design, heck, even the same pictures decorating the walls. This was someone's bad idea of a joke.

"This is..."

For once he was at a loss for words. He'd thought the Ashford estate in Antarctica had brought back enough horrible memories with its creepy similarity to the Spencer mansion, but this was a whole new level. This was a perfect replica.

"Well." He turned to Jill, resisting the urge to reach out and give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "At least this time we know we're not coming here looking for shelter."

But the knowledge that this place, much like its predecessor would be filled with horror was not a comforting thought. He stared at Jill, casting his mind back to that fateful moment when he'd returned to the hallway and found her gone, her gun lying on the floor.

At least this time Wesker wasn't here to split them up. They'd survived this before. They could do so another time.

"We get in, acquire the target, and get out. Doesn't matter if this is a trip down memory lane or not, it's still just another job." His tone was gruff. Knowing. _Foreboding. _"Above all else, we stick together."

"At least we know our way around," Jill remarked, but the expression on her face emanated alertness a moment later.

The moment when she saw the blood. The marble stairs leading unto the upper floor were slick with sticky crimson, smeared across the staircase like some artistic homage to the destruction of life. The cold, viscous substance painted a stark picture of what had transpired there; whoever had lost the blood had obviously gone through a violent struggle.

But where were the corpses?

Silence told what words were redundant for. They were neither the only ones, nor the first ones here.

"I guess now we know why there was no welcoming party," Chris said. Perhaps they were far closer to their final goal than planned.

He pulled his radio off his hip. It was a trait of his on missions, his obsessive need to keep some contact with the outside. It came from having been in too many situations where he was cut off and alone.

"HQ, Eagle Two here. Looks like we've got a situation. Someone got here first and it's not pretty. We're proceeding with caution. Over."

HQ confirmed and they were on their own once again. Since the stains were accumulating at the top of the stairs, Chris deduced that the main part of the fight must have taken place there.

To both sides iron gates hindered them from proceeding further. There seemed no way around them. Naturally, they were locked.

Jill scrutinized the grates with a critical eye. "There's no keyhole. I can't pick those."

"Let's look around for another way."

Because, of course, this was Spencer and so the place would be teeming with riddles and traps. Nothing was ever straightforward where the old man had a hand in things.

They backtracked down the stairs and tried the big double doors to their right.

"The dining room, right?" Jill murmured beside him.

He nodded and tried the knob.

The dining room door refused to budge. He didn't fancy attracting attention by trying to blow the lock with a well aimed shot. They desisted from this direction and inspected the opposite side, where immovable stone blocked them from proceeding. In its middle there was hole where a crest should go.

The only way left to go was down, and as they rounded the corner, Chris thought of the Trevor family and their horrific fate. Just one more crime in a long list of atrocities that Spencer had to answer for.

There was a gate and it looked firmly shut, but his attentions were on the large lever on the wall behind. It couldn't have been more foreboding if it had 'PULL ME' written beside it in human blood, but it seemed like their only option.

"What do you reckon?" he said, looking at Jill. She'd always been the more perceptive one in their partnership. "Pull the lever, get a prize?"

* * *

**Finally! I wanted to put this up a week ago, but FF was so bugged, I couldn't even access my own profile.**

**This is obviously not premansion and not the story I promised. My apologies. But since that one is only halfway done, I decided to keep you busy with this instead. **

**The plot starts off easy, but don't misinterpret the traces of humor. When I put horror in the description of my story, I mean it. ;)**

**Cheers,  
Chaed**


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

The lever looked all too inviting. She found herself scanning their immediate surroundings for any possible mechanisms they could activate by pulling it. Spencer had a disturbing penchant for booby traps and Jill had a less than pleasant history with some of them.

When she was sure that the coast seemed clear, she motioned for Chris to go ahead. Chris' stance was tense as he pulled, as though something might spring out at any moment - but nothing did. Instead all Jill could hear was a distant mechanical click and then two dull _clank_s. Something had unlocked.

So far, so good. They made their way back to the main hall, and Jill strained her hearing for any tell-tale shuffling or moans, any sign that they might have released something nasty along with the lever mechanism. But the only change seemed to be that they could now proceed unhindered to the upper floor.

Beside her, Chris muttered under his breath, "Damn if this job isn't going to give me a heart attack once..."

He was cut short with a loud, wet _thud_ behind them and Jill whirled round, her breath catching in her throat. There was a corpse at her feet, battered and mangled and oozing blood all around her boots. She stood and stared at it for a moment, before shock ebbed away. Bending down she examined it for anything that might give them a clue; bite marks, scratches...

Chris peered over her shoulder. "Well, I'm no forensics expert, but it looks like something kicked the shit out of him."

Jill frowned. "No bite marks, no claw marks, no gunshot wounds. Nothing. It looks like he was beaten to death." Her mind raced over the possibilities. Nemesis, Tyrant, Plagas creatures; there were any number of possibilities. And that was without mentioning the one thing she didn't want to consider. Jill was getting a little fed up of Chris' Wesker-related paranoia as of late. If anything happened, it was Wesker's fault. Spain, Harvardville, Willpharma, it all had to be connected to Wesker as far as Chris was concerned. If he ran out of milk for his coffee, it was somehow Wesker's doing.

Beside her, Chris piped up. "It could be Wesker..."

Jill kept her tone neutral. "Could be an old favourite, or something we haven't met yet. Either way, we can't let our guard down."

Although that much was a given. Jill couldn't remember the last time she _had_ dropped her guard. It seemed that for the last eight years she'd been on constant alert, ready to shoot, stab and snap necks. Hell, she had a dozen weapons in her apartment and was sleeping with a combat knife on the nightstand. No, Jill wasn't going to let her guard down now.

"Come on," she said, tearing her gaze away from the mangled corpse. "If Spencer really is here, I'd like to find him before his life support arrangements conk out on him."

Extending a hand, she pushed lightly against the cold steel of the metal gratings from before. The door moved with not so much as a creak. They traipsed through the landing until they reached a massive gap where the floor had given way. It looked like a fairly recent accident, and she was willing to bet that whatever killed the guards had also done this.

"Guess we'll have to find another way around," Chris said.

The distance didn't look insurmountable to Jill, but they didn't know what state the wood on the other side was in. If it was all mouldy and brittle she could risk a lot by trying to jump. But on the other side was a door and if it opened, she could proceed to what had to be the upper landing of the dining room. From there she might be able open the door downstairs for Chris.

Smirking, Jill weighed their options, but then her eyes found a new target. "What about that one?" she asked and pointed to the other end of the big hall. There was another door on the opposite side and if they had just a spark of luck, it would be open. If this mansion corresponded with the Raccoon one in more than just the main hall, then there was a lot to explore on that side.

"I'd say it's worth a try."

"I'd say it's a better option than the Redfield-Valentine flying trapeze act," Chris quipped, glancing back at the hole in the floor. "Let's go."

They made their way to the other side and Chris gave the door a little shake. The hinges creaked. They exchanged another look before he swung it open, giving the area a quick scan. Jill waited for his thumbs up before stepping into the new corridor, weapon drawn.

Once more she found herself thrown into a deja vu. The same wall paint, the same furniture, even the same carpet covering the wood tiles under their feet. The only thing missing was the door to the right that led up to the attic, to that giant snake.

_And to Richard..._

Her features darkened as the memories flooded her mind, far too vivid for her comfort. The spider webs, the sticky air, the adrenaline rushing through her veins as she peered into the gaping mouth of the reptile.

"Jill?"

"Sorry," she told Chris, who had stopped some way ahead, waiting.

Compared to the original Arklay Mansion this corridor ended in a single door. It led to what looked like a guest or staff room, and they started their investigation as soon as they stepped through the doorway. Jill found a stack of papers on the nightstand. It had to be a memo from one of Spencer's employees. It looked like a diary. Nothing relevant. Entries stopped a week ago.

She was about to discard the notes when another, smaller scrap of paper dropped to the ground. Jill picked it up, curious.

_CRS6-9FLJ-335B-YM2U _was written on one side.

"Hey, look at this," she called out to Chris and held up her finding. "I'm willing to bet that this will come in handy at one point."

He nodded, then paused, thoughtful. "But...where to now? Doesn't look like we've got many options on this side."

Jill racked her brains. All other doors were locked. She could not imagine a place where their newly acquired password could help them. Their only chance was to go out again and do a round of the mansion, see if they could climb in through a window. But that was more than unlikely. Spencer had surely secured his windows in some form and Jill didn't fancy searching out that pack of undead dogs they had missed the first time around.

If Chris could just haul her over to that door...

_And if it doesn't open?_

She couldn't jump back on her own and dropping to the main floor was something her legs would be opposed to do.

But that was the only thing they had, no matter how risky it was.

She turned to her partner, fixing him with her gaze until he shrugged his shoulders and said, "What?"

"I know you won't like it," she said. "But you know what we're going to do now."

* * *

**This is the shortest chapter within the story, but it's the best moment to end it without creating mega-long-uploads. **

**Slowly memories come haunting and new horrors start unfolding...**

**A HUGE thanks to all readers, reviewers and favoriters of last chapter! You guys made my day! I hope I can repay you in good future chapters for the time you dedicated to the story!**


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

She was right, Chris didn't like it one bit.

He didn't like the idea of throwing his partner as if she was a ragdoll across a gaping chasm in a damaged building.

He didn't like the fact that the floor on the other side was probably unstable.

He didn't like that the door would probably be locked with one of Spencer's insane traps or needlessly complicated mechanisms.

And most of all he didn't like the idea of splitting up. If everything he'd been through had taught him one thing, it was that you didn't leave your partner alone.

"Negative in all possible meanings of the word," he said and crossed his arms.

Jill was not very intimidated. "Okay." She put a hand to her hip, giving him one of those inquiring glances that made him feel as if he were in an interrogation. And not on the interrogating side. "You don't like my plan, then tell me yours. What's the alternative?"

Chris was silent, mind racing. They had a mission objective to fulfill, and it was their duty to do everything they could in order to bring Spencer to justice. Were they going to turn back just because he had some deep seated paranoia and abandonment issues? He could not think of the alternative Jill wanted and it clicked in his mind that she had suggested this way because she couldn't come up with anything else either.

"Alright," he growled, hands slumping to his sides. Jill had won. Again.

As they left the room, he tried to ease the growing tension between them. "I guess the circus is coming to town after all, huh?"

Jill didn't reply.

They backtracked to the main hall , coming to a stand before the gaping hole that Jill was about to artistically overcome.

"Okay," Jill breathed. "I really hope those muscles of yours work just as well as they look."

A grin appeared on his face at this comment, and he gave her a sheepish nod of acknowledgement. Unfortunately, Jill seemed to take this as a signal to run at him and he was forced to make a clumsy basket with his hands to accommodate her foot. Luckily, his muscles were _not_ just for show and he managed to use his strength to propel her across the gap.

At least, most of her. One leg dangled over the side of the void. Jill pulled herself up, tested the floor. It showed no signs of caving.

"What happened to our usual 'on three'?" he demanded.

Jill waved off his inquiry, checking her comms device instead. "We'll stay in radio contact. I'll see what I can do about that door from the other side."

Without waiting for his good luck wish, Jill turned the handle and disappeared out of her partner's view.

Chris remained still standing on the spot for an interminable few minutes, when her voice came cracking over the radio.

_"All clear on this side,"_ she told him. _"Get your lazy ass downstairs, I think I can write you on the guest list for __today's dinner."_

He found himself laughing in spite of everything. That was one of the many reasons he wouldn't have anyone else in the world be his partner. Jill kept him sane, kept his spirits up. They had a knack of buoying each other up, even in the many times when they'd been up to their eyeballs in trouble.

"Yeah, yeah, Valentine, I'm already on it," he shot back, before making his way back to the locked door. There was a click from the other side, and he was granted entrance to the dining room.

He stepped inside and took a look around. The dining room seemed like it hadn't changed at all in the eight years that had passed. He remembered how the plates had clattered to the floor when he had bumped against the table on his first undead-encounter. The furniture now was untouched, a thick layer of dust lying on top. Spencer sure didn't take his meals here anymore.

Jill sighed. "Back to zero. Let's turn this place upside down and see if we can find anything."

"I dunno." Chris shrugged. "I mean, we've been hunting Spencer for years, it was pretty much guaranteed that sooner or later we'd get his whereabouts. And the guy's nuts enough to have his old mansion totally replicated."

Besides, he told himself, it wasn't as though Umbrella were ever particularly original with their interior design. Unless by 'original' you meant 'batshit crazy'.

While Jill searched the back of the room, he bothered with the desk on the left side. It was stuffed with papers, documents of all kind. But Spencer's electricity bills were hardly of use to them, even if Chris had liked to take a peek at them.

His eyes wandered to a leather-clad book. He picked it up, opened it in the middle. Another journal. Several pages were ripped from it. Loose papers dropped to the ground as he scanned through it. Jill appeared beside him, taking interest in the notes on the floor. She was like a blood hound. Her fingers enclosed around what they needed as soon as she bent down.

It was a code, in the same handwriting as the one before.

_F6WT-K987-OOLA-1J5P_

She took out the scrap of paper she'd stored in her pocket and Chris peered over her shoulder as she compared the two notes.

"We might be on to something here," she said and clicked her tongue.

"Something tells me it's not going to be the girls' locker room," Chris said with mock-disappointment.

They continued to search the room, but there was nothing more to be discovered. Looking over at Jill, he gave a nod to the door left of the fireplace. "Onwards?"

She nodded, but something caught her attention and her expression darkened.

"Wait," she said and pointed to the fireplace. "Why is this thing burning? It looks like someone just threw a few logs in, but the place is deserted. And corpses don't care much about putting wood on the fire." That only left one logical deduction. "Someone else must be here."

_Assuming._ Assumptions and guesses were all they could work with, it seemed. They continued, emerging into a small corridor. After a sharp corner a set of stairs led one floor higher. Another door was just below them. Jill checked that first and wrinkled her nose as she entered a quite abandoned toilet.

"Looks like it hasn't been used in a while," she let him know and stepped back out into the hallway. "Dead end. Let's check upstairs."

As he followed her up the stairs in horrible deja-vu, it was almost like walking in the footsteps of his younger self; an idealistic and hot headed young cop with no clue what he'd just stumbled into.

But if he and Jill hadn't been caught up in all of this, then they wouldn't have survived and gone on to save countless lives afterwards. So maybe, in a weird kind of way, it had been worth it. They might have learned the hard way, but between the two of them they had the necessary field knowledge and expertise to really make a difference.

And now that bioterrorism had evolved from secret Frankenstein-esque labs and hushed up conspiracies to become a full-blown global threat, the one thing he could take comfort in was that they were there, right at the front line of the fighting, and had been from day one. The first time he'd been in Spencer's Mansion, he'd been little more than a rookie. Now he was going back in as a veteran. That had to count for something.

As they reached the top of the stairs and nudged the door open, they found themselves face to face with a piano room. Chris felt a sick lurch in his stomach, which he covered up with a derisive snort.

"Ten out of ten for originality," he muttered. It was like he'd taken a very real and personal step back into the nightmares which had plagued him for eight years and he wasn't loving the realism and attention to detail of the whole thing.

He swallowed.

"You still play, Jill?"

* * *

**This one is the last of the introductory chapters. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited this story. It's been great fun writing it so far, and once the actual survival horror starts, it will surely live up to its M rating. ;)**


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter 4

"Moonlight Sonata," Jill mused. "It's been a while since I last played this."

All of eight years, to be precise. While she still played the piano occasionally, she had never touched this particular piece again. It was beautiful music, but all the bad memories attached to it lent it an entirely horrific and uncomfortable touch.

As she brushed her fingertips over the piano keys, she turned to glance at Chris.

"Do you think it unlocks anything?"

Chris didn't look as though he was exactly desperate to try. Still, he said, "Guess there's only one way to find out."

Jill sighed and turned her attention to the piano. She was only the hobby musician to begin with and hadn't really had the time to get near an instrument ever since the BSAA had decided to exploit them as working animals.

Holstering her weapon, Jill examined the sheet of music in front of her. Arranging her fingers on the keys, she took a deep breath and started playing. She hit the first few scores and the music flowed along nicely. Not that it lasted long. Grimacing, Jill cursed under her breath.

"Goddamn..."

And really, having Chris staring holes into her back and expecting her to play the piece like Beethoven himself wasn't helping matters at all. At least the way she was playing (or rather, murdering) it, there was no danger of either of them welling up and getting all emotional.

"It's sounding great already," Chris told her with blatant insincerity. "I'll just sit in the corner here and, like, let you get to grips with it. I swear I heard something moving in the walls with those first few notes."

He leaned against the wall and let himself sit down on the floor, watching Jill intently. "Just... try to relax and uhm... let the music flow," he said in a doubtful attempt at encouragement, then added hastily, "But not too much. I mean, we actually don't have that much time because of the whole-"

"Shut up, Chris," Jill replied curtly as she tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. If this really triggered some mechanism, then she had better get it right before they spent the rest of their day in here.

The sonata's melody filled the room and it occurred to her that the keys were harder to press down than usual. Was this a sign that they were wired up to some kind of mechanism?

Behind her, a piece of the wall suddenly detached itself from the rest and started to slide down. Almost on instinct Jill stopped playing and had her weapon pointed at the part in less than a second. But as soon as the song was interrupted, the wall shot back up into its rightful position.

"Hey!" Chris exclaimed, hauling himself to his feet and rushing towards the opening, his trigger finger at the ready. "A secret compartment! I'm betting there's something in there that we need," he said. "If you can play, I'll run in and get it." He hesitated for a moment, "Just don't hit a bum note and leave me trapped in there, okay?"

Jill put a hand on her hip and smirked. "Don't you trust your partner?"

"It's not that I don't trust you. I's just that... you're hardly Mozart."

She stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to the piano and began to play the starting notes of the piece. Immediately the secret passageway behind her started to appear and Jill tried to block out the sound of wall against wall as she concentrated on hitting the right key. Everything else was up to Chris now.

As soon as the opening was large enough to get through, Chris jumped over the remaining stone and dashed to the back of the hidden vault. A few seconds later he was safely outside and waving his prize around.

"Check it out," he grinned. "Looks like we can get to the other side of the mansion now."

Curiously, she went to inspect their treasure. It was a crest made from metal, with a knight and a horse in the middle. As her partner had smartly pointed out it was probably for the door on the other side of the main hall.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" she asked and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "HQ isn't paying us by the hour."

They backtracked down to the main hallway, where Chris insisted on being the one who put the emblem in the door, while Jill scanned the area for traps. The lock clicked open without incident, and he pushed the door cautiously, firearm at the ready.

The hallway in front of them was deserted, but as Jill stared down that long corridor, she felt her breath involuntarily hitch in her chest. Next to her, Chris drew his breath in sharply.

"No. Fucking. Way," he whispered.

She put a soothing hand on his shoulder from where she was standing, both to reassure him and herself. They both knew this corridor and they both knew what dangers it held.

"It's okay," she said, her voice echoing off the walls in front of them. "I'll cover your back."

"Sure," he said gruffly and and although she was as anxious as him, they set forth.

As they made their way through the corridor, Jill was pleasantly surprised to discover that the windows remained intact. Even as they rounded the first corner, there were no dogs or human-sized lizards that wanted their guts. Some of the uneasiness around Jill's heart faded. This was a mission like any other, and if they had a little luck, it might just be their last. If Spencer really was here, possibly even Wesker, they could kill two flies with one hit.

Their only task now was to find the flies.

She took the lead and stopped in front of a door at the next corner of the corridor. There was a second door some way to their right, but Jill wanted to take this one by one. She turned the knob and furrowed her eyebrows as it didn't budge, trying again with more force.

"Locked," she announced and crouched down beside the door. At least this one had a keyhole and by the looks of it, it was just as old as Spencer himself.

"Piece of cake," she said as she retrieved her lockpicks and started working on their newest obstacle.

"You really haven't lost your touch," Chris remarked as the lock neatly clicked and the door swung open to reveal an expansive library, wall to wall with books. In the middle sat a computer, still on, and they immediately went over to it.

"You still got those codes we found lying about?" Chris asked.

The notes were on the table not a minute later and as Chris scanned through the computer, Jill tried to make sense of the codes. They were a combination of numbers and letters, but apart from the fact that they both held the same amount of characters, there was no similarity Jill could find. Either they were both for the same thing, or two completely different passwords.

The computer suddenly beeped as Chris hacked into one of the restricted areas. A window popped up on the screen, demanding the input of three passwords.

"Looks like we're missing one," Jill said, then grimaced. "Let's hope we don't have to turn the entire library upside down to find it."

Chris swore under his breath. She could sympathise with the sentiment. She didn't much feel like going on a treasure hunt either, but at least the two codes they had were the right amount of digits, so it was safe to say they were probably on the right track.

"There are hundreds of books in here. The passcode could be shoved into any one of them." Chris said with a sigh.

It was half an hour later that Jill discarded yet another book - Volume II of Henry Travis' 72 part encyclopedia, _Surveys of Natural History _- with a resigned sigh. This was it. No passcode.

"There's nothing here," she said grimly. "But there's another door at the end of the corridor. Perhaps that one's the key to success?"

Chris, half buried under a mountain of books that now lay discarded at his feet, couldn't have been happier to agree. He shoved the book he was currently inspecting back on the shelf.

"This is a waste of time anyway. Let's get going."

The room down the corridor turned out to be a storage of sorts, only that all the cages and boxes stocked there were completely empty. Jill did not question that detail, but caught herself wondering where all the contents had gone. Cages were for animals and these had just the right dimensions to fit a dog, or something similar to that size.

She proceeded to the back of the room, where she found another door, this one made of steel, but it was firmly locked. There was nothing she could do about it with her harmless wires.

"Dead end again," she announced impatiently. "I sincerely hope you found something."

"Nothing here," Chris called back. "Just some stupid scrap of weird paper. There's nothing written on it."

"Scrap of paper?" Jill mused aloud, her interest piqued. On impulse, she took the seemingly empty paper out of Chris' hands, scratching at it with her fingernail, even sniffing at it for any sign of chemicals. She turned the sheet over in her fingers idly. It had a strange, waxy texture to it, but even holding it up to the dim light yielded absolutely nothing.

"Say, you don't happen to still carry that lighter of yours around, do you?"

"Sure..."

It was a moot question. Of course he did. That zippo had never left his possession ever since he'd returned from Rockfort.

Handing it to Jill, he cocked his eyebrow quizzically. "You decided to take up smoking?"

She rolled her eyes as she took the lighter, amazed at Chris' never ending pool of jokes. She wondered, with a slight hint of trepidation, how long his jocular humour would last when they found themselves face to face with whatever had caused the carnage in the hallway.

"Watch and marvel."

Taking the piece by one corner, Jill lit up the zippo and held it under the paper for a few seconds, before switching sides. Even though there was no visible difference when she was finished with the treatment, Jill already had a grin on her face. Proudly, she slapped the piece of paper into Chris' hand.

"And now hold it up into the light."

Dutifully, Chris took the paper and followed her instructions. A smile spread across his face as a series of numbers and letters became visible. In fact, just the right amount of characters to be their elusive third passcode.

"Nice job, Valentine," he observed.

Jill took the paper from him and examined it herself, satisfied with the results. _956U-0KPL-NJ7F-XV31_ was only waiting to be entered into the computer terminal of the other room.

They backtracked to the library where Jill entered the missing code. After an affirmative beep another window opened, telling them that they had full access to the computer's database. Since they had no time to thin out all the documents during mission HQ had kindly equipped them with a small portable harddrive that was soon loaded with a few gigabytes of Spencer's data.

But as soon as Jill unplugged the device, there was a heavy mechanical clank and she instinctively grabbed for the weapon on the desk. One of the bookshelves started moving sideways, opening up a new passageway. Uncertainly, Jill exchanged a silent glance with her partner.

"I'll go..." Chris said reticently.

He craned his neck to look inside and she cast a glance over his shoulder. The bloodstains all over the floor weren't exactly inviting, although the safe on the other side of the room certainly was. They shot each other a wordless glance, an agreement that Chris would go for it. He gripped his weapon and cautiously took a step inside the room.

There was a whirring noise above his head and he looked up all too late, to see the spikes which now adorned the ceiling. Jill's eyes widened so much that she thought they would burst. That sickening noise as Chris entered the room set free an odd kind of panic, one that she could remember all too clearly.

Of all adventures in the Arklay Mansion, Jill had been most afraid of that one. The descending ceiling, the helplessness, the inevitable outcome of the situation. She would have died, slowly and painfully, feeling all of the bones in her body crunch under the weight of the ceiling. If it hadn't been for Barry, Jill wouldn't be standing here right now.

Only, there was no Barry here to help them now.

But _she _was.

She stormed into the room before Chris could even adapt to the new happenings, gripped him by his vest and hauled him out of the room in the same movement.

But in the moment she wanted to follow, metal grates shot down from the ceiling and blocked her way out, leaving her trapped in a cell of death.

* * *

**Okay. Enough introductory chapters. Humor officially ends here. Horror begins. **

**A huge thanks to Ultimolu, cjjs, donation1740, Romipen, yume girl 91, TheDarkSpookyNight, Lime Rickey, Alavon and Claire Redfield for their reviews! You guys made my day!  
**


	5. Chapter V

Chapter 5

"JILL!"

Chris' hands flew to the metal grating that separated them, kicking at them angrily. His eyes darted from the crimson stain on the floor, to the blood encrusted spikes on the ceiling, and back into the wide, panicked eyes of his partner.

"I'm going to get you out, ok?" he said, his breathing rapid, as he ran back to the computer. There had to be some kind of control for the door! But no. The whole system had shut down, leaving a blank screen and a useless keyboard.

"Shit!"

Chris sprinted back to the cell, the ceiling a fraction closer, promising an agonizing death with each inch that it advanced. "I can't shut it off! Can you see anything in there that triggers it?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice calm, and failing. "Quick, there has to be something!"

Because there just had to be. Because it was _Jill_ in there, his partner, and he wasn't going to lose her to one of Spencer's stupid games.

His eyes darted desperately around the room before settling on his distraught partner, trapped in that hellish cage. There had to be something to stop the mechanism, but all he could see in there was blood and crimson and red and all he could think of was how that blood was going to be Jill's in no longer than a few minutes.

There was a sort of safe at the end of the room and Jill ran up to it. The safe was not locked, but it didn't house the off-switch either. The only thing inside was a crank and, at the sight of it, Chris swore aloud in frustration.

A crank? What the fuck was he supposed to do with a crank? If the crank was the solution to this puzzle, they had no chance at finding its place in time!

Jill ran back to the grates and handed the crank to Chris, not even able to speak. She just shook her head, trembling.

"Please," she whispered. "Get me out of here..."

He reached in through the bars of the cage and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I will." he said, meeting her eyes resolutely. "I'm going to get you out, but we have to find a way to stop the mechanism. I'll kick the door down if I have to."

It was a fairly weak promise. Even he wouldn't be able to make a dent in those solid iron bars. He gripped her hand again for a moment, and was suddenly sick at the thought that he might be forced to watch that ceiling come all the way down. Shaking his head, he let go and took a step back, peering inside the room for anything that might help them.

"Keep it together, okay? We need to think fast."

But he couldn't help but look at the spiked ceiling, at how bloody it was. And that could only mean that there was no escape, right?

Swallowing hard, Jill said, "Okay, okay. There must be some lever or button on your side. There can't be anything here... hurry, Chris."

"There's nothing here," he said, a note of panic rising in his voice. "We already turned this room upside down."

They'd have seen something, surely, if it was there. A button, a lever, something. He began to aimlessly tear the remaining books from their shelves, hunting for some hidden contraption and swearing when he found nothing.

Time crept away from them. It seemed as though the ceiling was dropping at an alarming rate, as though time was moving much, much too quickly.

"Shit!" He kicked a bookcase angrily. "Jill, there's got to be something. I'm going to try next door, okay? Hang in there. I'll be back. I won't..."

He cut himself off. He wouldn't what? Let her down? Let her die? He didn't really have a lot of control over that. What if there _was_ no way to shut it off? And if that was the case, then what could he do? Sit there and shout words of encouragement while she died horribly?

Fuck that. There had to be a way.

No sooner had he left the room than his radio cracked to life at his hip. _"Chris! There's a lever in the other room, behind the locked door! I'm going to try and open it for you, hurry!"_

With a lurch in his stomach he ran for the locked door, kicking against it with all his might, a thrill of hope mixed in with the fearful, heart-pounding anxiety that he just wasn't going to make it on time.

It wouldn't budge.

"Fucking thing's jammed tight," he yelled into his radio. "I can't see a lock."

He threw his shoulder against the impenetrable wooden structure, every ounce of strength he had going into the effort, but still it didn't move.

_"There's a lock here,"_ Jill told him over the radio. _"Stand back, I'm going to shoot it."_

Chris heard four gunshots before something heavy dropped to the ground. He practically threw himself through the door, sprinting desperately to the end of the room and grabbing the awaiting lever with all his might.

For one interminably long second, he didn't think it was going to stop. The ceiling had descended past the grates on this side, so that he could impossibly tell how low it really was. He could hear Jill's frantic breathing through the radio, could hear the mechanism creaking and groaning, but Christ, why wasn't it _doing_ anything?

But a moment later there was a spring of rusting metal, the sound of a cog turning and the ceiling began to creep back towards its normal position. He didn't hang around in the room to wait, making a dash for the library.

"Please be ok, don't be injured..." he whispered under his breath as he broke through the door just in time to see the metal bars rising as the roof slotted back into place.

"Jill?"

Jill had already crawled out of the cell, her limbs shaking. She didn't bother to answer Chris' question, instead jumping up and enclosing her partner in a bear hug, her heart racing inside of her chest at such a speed that he could feel it through the fabric of her shirt.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Chris wrapped his huge arms around her shaking shoulders, pulling her tightly to his chest and letting his own heartbeat subside to a less alarming rate. He remained like that for a few long moments, staring past Jill's head to the room behind them, to the blood stains on the floor which could so easily have been hers. But she was okay. She was alive, in one piece and that horrible terror was ebbing away.

Every mission it got worse, the fear that something would happen to her, the compulsive bullshit macho desire to protect her, even though she was more than capable of looking after herself. The thought of losing Jill terrified Chris more than anything. More than Wesker, or even the end of the world.

But he didn't say that. He never could, it just wasn't how things worked. So instead he pushed down that part of him that was holding her a little bit _too_ tightly and just let out a forced laugh as he pulled away.

"Jeez," he said with a snort, and mimicked Barry's gruff tones. "You were almost a Jill sandwich."

Jill let out a shaky laugh. "I sincerely hope this was the last time I'll ever hear this line."

Chris wasn't feeling particularly upbeat about the whole affair, all things considered. He admired Jill's resilience a lot, her dedication to duty. Plenty of people would have been a nervous wreck after what had just happened. Even hardened agents out on the field were known to crumble under lesser horrors.

"Hey," he commented flippantly as they began to walk towards the library door. "At least we have a crank. Can't go wrong if you've got a crank."

"A heavily protected crank," Jill added. "One that you'd _die_ for."

In reality they probably wouldn't even have looked into the direction of the crank if they had known what trouble it was connected to. But now that they had it, they could just as well use it. Only where?

As Chris pushed the door open to leave the library and pondered possible locations his breath hitched in his throat as his eyes caught sight of what blocked the corridor in front of them.

At least now they knew what had killed Spencer's bodyguards.

Chris stopped in his tracks, his hand automatically tight around his weapon. The humanoid form hulking in front of them had the garb of an executioner covering its face, its eyes obscured by the tattered hood. A mass of sores and growths erupted from its back, necrotic flesh springing forth on top of it. The stench was overwhelming, the sickly smell of rotting meat mixed with the unique scent of decay that only virally infected creatures seemed to have. He'd first smelled it that day in Arklay, pervading the great hallway, and it had turned his stomach then before he even knew the source.

But all of this was largely superfluous, as Chris' attention was mainly focused on the fucking massive bloody axe that the creature was swinging around blindly.

"Retreat!" Jill more gasped than yelled as both agents sprung back to evade the henchman's axe. One hit from that thing and they were as dead as the stone this cursed mansion was built upon.

The problem was that they didn't have a great deal to retreat to. The library was a dead end and Chris wouldn't bet his life that they could lure the monster into that trap and count on it reactivating again. And once they were back into the room, they'd be like rats in a maze.

The corridor behind them only led into that storage room, which was no great escape route. To pass the berserk monster was a no-go and something in his guts told him that this freak wasn't going down with one or two bullets alone.

"Shit..." he cursed under his breath, his heart racing in his chest. Out of the frying pan and into the proverbial fire.

The mass of flesh on the creature's back seemed to indicate some kind of natural weak spot, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to open fire and test that out on a gamble.

"We've got to slow it down!" Jill told Chris, but fired no shot yet. The henchman kept approaching, reading its massive axe when it got close enough.

"How?" he yelled, but as it turned out he didn't have much time to ponder the theory of how screwed they were, because in the next instance the impossibly sharp blade came whistling through the air.

Chris desperately launched himself to the right, colliding with the wall. He shot a glance at Jill over the sheet of blood-encrusted metal which now separated them.

The creature wailed as it realized it had missed 's military prowess kicked in at exactly the right moment. Shoving herself off the wall she took two great leaps and passed the monster, whirling around on her heels to point her weapon at the thing's back. As Jill opened fire, Chris took a dive and rolled forward.

He now found himself positioned between the monster and the exit, which was something at least. His partner seemed to be aiming for a spot in particular, and he whirled around and leveled his own weapon. The howl of pain from the creature indicated that Jill had hit bull's-eye. Literally.

There it was, a lone eye hoisted on the unnatural mass of flesh that was the thing's back, blindly blinking into all directions. The creature wailed in agony, swinging its axe to eliminate the source of its pain.

Chris was nothing if not a fantastic marksman under pressure, and he swiftly complimented Jill's shot with one of his own in the same spot. Whether the eye was blind or not, it seemed to cause the monster a great deal of pain and they both continued to shoot it before their opponent could recover from its shock.

In theory it worked, but reality taught them better. Chris had fired four shots, when the monster decided to even the odds. Chris had been tensing himself, waiting for the hell spawn to make a move. But he didn't expect the sheer agility and speed with which the creature was suddenly able to wield its large weapon. Pain seemed to sharpen its reflexes and it swung the blade in his direction with what seemed to be frightening ease and precision.

Reflexively he dodged, but the searing pain in his arm told him that he hadn't quite been quick enough. In a panic, he looked down at his left arm to make sure it was still attached and let out a sharp hiss. A mixture of pain and relief washed over him as he saw merely a blossoming pool of blood on his shirt sleeve.

But he didn't have time to assess the extent of damage. Because he had to get the hell out of the way.

"Jill!" he shouted, "We don't stand a chance in here. We got to draw this thing out into the open! We need to lure it to the main hall!"

He wasn't sure if they had gravely injured the creature, but they had certainly managed to irritate it out of its skin. Jill fired two more shots, keeping a careful distance.

"Go for the Main Hall!" she shouted in answer. "And hope it follows you and not me!"

Chris had a surefire, Redfield-perfected way to ensure that this would be exactly what happened.

"Hey asshole!" he yelled, and fired a couple of shots as he inched backwards. "You want some of this? Come and get it!"

He sent another bullet into its arm for good measure and hoped that the scent of fresh blood would get its attention away from Jill. He didn't need to worry about that. A moment later and the creature was lumbering after him.

He sprinted for the destroyed doors to the main hall, making mental notes of the thing's attributes. Strength, check. Accuracy, check. Speed, check. In the cramped corridor, the lack of maneuverability worked to its advantage, with its massive weapon, but getting it into an open space would surely even up the odds a little. As it burst after him into the main hallway, he ran to the other side, trying to find the best vantage point to open fire.

But he was so intent on making a fast exit that he almost didn't notice when the sound of heavy footfall behind him ceased. Turning around, Chris realized that he was no longer being followed. A split second later, he heard Jill breath his name as his radio burst into life at his hip, and in an instant he was sprinting back in the opposite direction.

"Jill!" he yelled, and it was hard to keep the panic from his voice. "JILL!"

He could see her dangling in its grasp like a rag doll and the sight made him sick. Without a conscious thought, Chris unleashed a volley of shots into the soft flesh of its back and violently willed it to drop her. Still shooting, he advanced, watching it twitching in pain but tightening its grip all the while.

With his left hand, which was now covered in a sticky stream of blood, Chris fumbled for the serrated blade he kept in a sheath at his chest. A moment later he launched himself forward and buried it up to the hilt in what was left of the eye, the tissue bursting with a sickening crack of blood and water and pus.

"Let her _go_, goddamn it!" he yelled at the monster, twisting the blade and wrenching it deeper.

Jill went sprawling to the ground, gasping for breath. She hauled herself into a crouching position and leveled her Beretta. With Chris distracting their enemy, she had a perfect aim on the thing's head. Two bullets did the trick and penetrated thick skull and squishy brain.

Abruptly, the creature hit the floor.

Before Chris could even register what was happening, Jill pulled him into the main hall and away from the hopefully dead monster. Once in relative safety she immediately turned her attention to his arm, hissing under her breath. Her voice was still hoarse from the effect of being nearly strangled.

"That's a nasty gash. Keep pressure on it while I get the first aid."

"Goddamn." Chris let out a gasp of pain as she pulled his sleeve up.

He pushed down on the still-bleeding wounding as she had ordered, stemming it against the leather of his fingerless gloves. He'd had worse, much worse. He'd just stick a bandage on it, ignore the pain, keep going, and add it to his splendid collection of monster-related wounds.

"Don't worry," Jill told her partner with a weak grin. "The ladies like scars."

She managed to clean and dress the wound quickly, giving Chris two tablets of painkillers to go along.

"I don't know what that thing was," she continued. "But if you feel any signs of whatsoever I want to know it before you start to go all berserk on me."

Chris shrugged and gave a forced chuckle. "Yeah, no worries, Valentine. The ladies might love scars, but I'm betting they ain't so keen on a guy who eats brains." He gave her a wink and sprang to his feet with a little more enthusiasm than he felt.

"Well, I guess we shouldn't sit around all day chatting," he said, pulling his sleeve down and checking his weapon, before looking over at his partner. A part of him was dreading going deeper into the bowels of Spencer's latest residence. If there were monsters roaming the halls, who knew what was underground?

Jill produced the crank, giving it a thoughtful look. "We've got a key, now we just need a lock to open it with. Suggestions?"

Chris looked around the hall and winced. "There's one place we haven't tried." He nodded in the direction of the stairwell, where they'd flipped the switch earlier. "What's say we check if there really are monsters hiding under the stairs?"

"Monsters hide under beds, not under stairs," Jill reckoned, but nodded at the proposal. And indeed, the matching hole for the crank was located beside a steel gate that presumably led to the underground area of the Estate.

Drawing her flashlight Jill pointed into the darkness up ahead. "Do you think the similarities stretch farther? Last time this way led down into Hell…"

Chris stepped into the unknown silently. Jill gave him a last serious glance. "No risks. Watch your back. This is no place where you can escape the boogeyman by just waking up."

He returned her look with a similarly grave one of his own. "I'll be careful. I promise."

As he ducked under the grating, he squinted into the darkness. In the half-light, he could make out what looked like...

"...another crank," he muttered to himself under his breath with a roll of his eyes.

"Hey Jill," he called back over his shoulder. "You can let go of the handle. I think I've found another mechanism here."

He went over to inspect the handle more closely, when something caught his attention. There was a ribcage lying at his feet, and some human skulls sitting on top of the box where the handle was.

As if someone had purposely placed them there.

He should have been surprised, but he wasn't. Surprise was one of those feelings that could get you an instant kill in Spencer's playhouses and Chris swore to himself that nothing was going to catch him off guard anymore, not if that could cost him their lives.

"This sure bodes well..."

He turned the handle and, sure as fate, the door behind him began to rise again. Soon enough Jill had slipped through and the two were reunited again. With their flashlights they illuminated the crude stone corridor. Some lone wooden planks littered the floor. Eventually everything led up to one rusty metal door. It was locked, but hardly a match for Jill's skills.

On the other side the first thing that hit Chris was the smell. That old familiar stench of death and decay reached him like a punch in the face. They found themselves at the top of a brief flight of stairs, and he peered down cautiously to see a hole at the bottom where the floor had given way. The decrepit stone was propped up with scaffolding and he couldn't help but experience a brief, irrational panic that the walls were going to cave in on top of them. He'd always been a little claustrophobic at the best of times, and his experiences on the job had only added to that aversion.

"Great," he mumbled, pointing his flashlight into the gap. "I'll jump down and scout, and give you the go ahead if it's safe." He paused for a moment, wrinkling his nose. "And if you hear me start screaming," he added with a grim smile, "That's your cue to get the Hell out of here and call for backup."

"I appreciate your plan, Chris," Jill said. "But this is the time when splitting up is the wrong choice. We're going in together or we're not going in at all. And we both know that the latter is no option." She nodded firmly, gesturing into the darkness. "The only one screaming today will be Spencer."

And with that Jill took the leap into the rabbit's hole. As soon as she was down, Chris frowned. He'd have much preferred that she stay in a position to get backup, but he'd known it was a pretty futile suggestion.

"_You won't like this_," Jill's voice crackled over the radio to Chris who was still on the other level.

He leapt down after her, landing on his feet with a slightly less graceful thud. He was greeted immediately with the sight of blood smeared on the walls beside a pair of manacles, and he whirled around to face his partner with a grimace.

"Jesus..."

Chris was momentarily devoid of any of his usual wisecracks. "Fuck, this is not good."

He peered around the corner to the corridor, confronted with row after row of dank, dirty cells. This was way worse than the prison complex he'd seen on Rockfort Island.

He put a hand on Jill's shoulder. "We can do this."

Jill swallowed dryly, raising the Beretta and taking point. Several rats crossed their path as they made their way through prison cells and torture racks. Some corpses had never been moved, but at least their state of decay let him draw conclusions. This place had been used recently.

"How much ammo do you have?" Jill asked.

Chris looked over at her and frowned. They always went in armed to the teeth, but realistically, if there were more of those creatures around, then they'd be fucked for ammunition pretty soon. He reached into his vest pocket and procured a clip, handing it to her with a small smile.

"There you go, just don't go wasting these ones," he said. It was a lame joke, but Jill's obsession with conserving ammo was pretty legendary, while he tended to be a little more gun-ho. The half hearted smile soon faded from his face as he caught sight of two hanged bodies swaying from the ceiling, wafting the smell of decomposing human flesh towards them.

They made their way through the prison complex in a kind of shocked silence. It was obviously disused at the moment, but the horrors which had taken place were still fresh enough, the darkened blood stains and rotting flesh of the corpses making it all the more horrific.

"How can he _live_ with this under his house?" Chris wondered aloud. Spencer's depravity really did know absolutely no bounds.

"I start to have my doubts about him actually living here," Jill answered, and he was forced to agree.

Even if Spencer was their top priority on this mission, the urgency to find his whereabouts had just been replaced with the task of plain survival. Chris knew from personal experience that Umbrella had a thing for prisons, but this stretched it a little. Inhuman experiments in cold clinical labs were one thing. This was totally another.

They advanced very slowly, taking in the horrid torture devices to both their sides. The corridor snaked around a corner and then up some old moldy stairs.

At the top, their ambush awaited.

* * *

**An early update this time. Welcome to the world of survival horror, my dears.**

**Thanks to cjjs, donation1740, Alavon, yume girl 91, Lime Rickey, Romipen and Claire Redfield for their reviews. Your awesomeness keeps me writing.**

**Today, I want to use this authors note to direct you to a special story. It is a co-project between sad little tiger, Thaleron and myself. _The Serpent_ is a**** postapocalyptic tale of survival in a world that has been condemned by Death.**** ChrisxJill, JillxWesker. I estimate a triple M rating, so mature. You can find the link in my profile.  
**


	6. Chapter VI

Chapter 6

It cast a long, ominous shadow in the half light of the cells, and she swallowed hard, taking up a defensive stance and readying her weapon. Jill's heart sank when she took in the hulking form of a creature identical to the one they'd just faced. She remained very still, trying to figure out where and when to strike without antagonising it into an attack.

She was so intent on watching the creature that the blow from behind came as a sudden, confusing shock. Dazed, Jill turned her head to find herself staring up into the deformed mouth of a second monster.

Their enemies were so different than all the times before. They thought and planned and cooperated with each other. A sickening memory of the Nemesis Tyrant invaded Jill's mind and it didn't let go until the monster rudely grabbed her by her gear, lifting her off her feet with frightening ease. While the enemy behind them busied Chris, Jill's opponent slammed her hard into the wall, forcing a half groan, half gasp from her lips.

She could hear Chris calling her name, but was too dazed to even fathom what direction the shout was coming from. The monster didn't let go, continuing its doll game by throwing her to the ground. Instinctively she turned it into a roll, getting to her feet a distance away from Chris and the two hulks.

_Shit,_ she thought, collecting her gun off the floor. Three bullets left the muzzle before she even came up with a decent combat plan.

Her gaze searching out her partner, Jill realised that he was in no position to help her. The monster closest to him grabbed his injured arm, wrenching it tightly and twisting it at a cruel angle. He managed to hold his ground for all of three seconds before he was forced to his knees in pain.

Chris aimed a shot at the creature's ankles, following it up with a sweeper kick, hooking his leg around its and bringing it tumbling to the floor almost on top of him. He shot again, but his bullet went wide and embedded into the floor as the thing reached up to grapple with him, one deformed, gnarled hand slipping around his throat and choking him.

"CHRIS!"

Jill couldn't even tell if he heard her, slack as he was in that monsters arms. But she didn't have time check. The other hulk was advancing on her, one murder axe lifted to split her in two. She barely evaded the blow, the ground beneath it cracking under its force. No way her bones could survive that.

Jill placed her hopes in her agility, feigning a step to the right, then quickly jumping to the left and sprinting past the henchman.

At least, in theory.

Midway she kissed the wall, clutching her side as the monster rammed the end of the wooden hilt into her ribs. She fell to one knee, wincing in between gritted teeth.

_Fuck!_

She had to get to Chris in the next few seconds or that monster would strangle him to certain death!

But she never succeeded.

The last thing Jill felt was sticky blood under her BSAA cap before she realized that something very hard had just impacted with her head.

–

In truth, Jill never thought that she would see the light of day again. But the working, logical part of her mind told her that she _had_ to be alive – the splitting headache had to be proof enough. She couldn't restrain a moan, thoughts too jumbled to process that she was still in danger zone, in enemy territory. Every wrong move could mean her demise.

There were stars in front of Jill's eyes when she first blinked. The world only took on its used shapes after a few moments and even then, the monotone ringing in her ears continued to deafen her. She was lying on the cold stone floor and it took a while until she could convince her limbs to support her weight.

Slowly Jill struggled into a sitting position, one hand shooting up to her temple. Her skull was warm to the touch and as she retraced her palm, it came back wet. Taking dull notion of her state, Jill moved on to the more important task at hand: finding out where she was.

A single sweep of her surroundings was enough to make adrenaline shoot through her system. She was in some sort of cell, one of those they had passed along the way, her and Chris and...

Jill's eyes widened and she crawled to the rusted bars.

"Oh my God..."

Her partner was there, locked in the adjacent cell.

Chris groaned and mumbled an obscenity as he registered the sound of her voice, beginning to move his head. Then his eyes shot open and he pulled himself into a sitting position, only to find himself face to face with the bars of his cage.

"How...?" he blurted out, twisting his head to one side, his eyes widening at the smear of old blood on the wall beside him.

"Jill?" he enquired tentatively, before roaring at the top of his voice. "JILL?" There was blatant panic in his voice as he screamed her name.

"Shhh, quiet! I'm here!" she called back, and Chris whirled around, seeing her for the first time.

Jill got to her feet, using the bars as support to keep her balance. She saw dark spots before her eyes and guessed that the blow to her head must have been a pretty heavy one.

She scanned her surroundings, panicked at first as she realized that someone had taken her equipment. She located it just outside her cell, perhaps an arm's length away, no more. She could get that. She could lock pick herself out of here, free Chris and they'd hightail it back to HQ, get proper support and heavy weaponry. And then she'd come back and stick a rocket launcher right up some monster's ass.

But Jill didn't have enough time to go through with her plan, not even scream a warning to her partner as the two creatures from before entered the scene and stole the show.

"Hey! Hello!" Chris yelled at the advancers. "Spencer... are you there? I'll fucking kill you!"

Jill watched, horrified, as one of the monsters gestured to the other and then reached for a large, rusted set of keys. Its hands seemed grotesquely adept as it unlocked the door to Chris' cell.

Jill's eyes were wide as she observed the creatures silently communicate with each other. She looked up into their faces and for a moment she caught a glimpse of the most horrifying aspect of the virus. The kind of half-understanding, half-primal bloodlust these creatures possessed. They had enough intelligence to go through the motions of a task, but lacked the humanity to accomplish it with anything more than clumsy motions and half-comprehensions of their actions. They acted on an instinct borne from an old life, twisted into something even more macabre and dreadful which their infection forced upon them.

One of them opened the iron gate and grabbed Chris by the throat. Its movement was unnaturally quick, and Jill's still-dazed partner stood almost no chance. Her voice stuck in her throat and she held herself back from yelling at the monsters. Their attention was fixed on Chris and as terrible as that sounded, Jill needed him to distract them.

She turned her head to the equipment outside the cell. This was their one and only chance. If she didn't act now, it would be too late. Moving as quietly as she could, Jill tiptoed to that end of the cell and got down on her knees, stretching one arm to grab her holsters.

_Just a few inches more... just one..._

She could almost touch the leather with the tip of her fingers. But then she made the fatal mistake of hesitating as she heard Chris' screams and that was enough to draw one of the creatures' attention.

Jill cursed under her breath as it set into motion. She reached out as far as she could, squeezing her shoulder in between the bars.

By the time she managed to get a hold of a leather strap, one massive boot appeared beside her arm. Jill tried to pull back, but the creature was faster. She groaned at the sound of her bones crunching under the boot, but bit back the pain long enough to pull the equipment inside the cell.

_One more minute, Chris_, she silently pleaded as she struggled to get the pistol out. _Just hold on one more minute..._

Jill was barely done strapping up her holster when the monster literally barged through the door, not bothering with such trivial things as locks. Her hand was still on fire, her fingers numb with pain, but Jill clenched her teeth as she levelled the gun. It wasn't as if she needed accurate shots here. She needed a fucking miracle!

The monster was furious, perhaps realizing in its primitive mind what she had been up to and not in the least pleased with her actions. It was unarmed, having left its weapon outside the cell, which was a blessing to Jill. But it still stood between her and the door, and then another one between her and Chris.

Jill decided to try it with speed again, not seeing any alternatives at the moment. Propping herself in one corner of the cage, she waited until the thing got close enough. It swiped with one of its massive paws and Jill used that moment to act. Ducking under the motion she rolled out of its way, stumbling the first few steps until she regained balance.

Sprinting out of the metal cage, Jill used the momentum to charge at her next enemy. The monster was still busy with Chris, who had gone alarmingly limp in its grip. Jill got four point blank shots into its blind eye before it even realized what was happening. The eye burst on the fifth hit and the creature dropped Chris with a wail, lunging around aimlessly as it tried to make the excruciating pain stop.

Jill turned on her heels instantly, almost bumping into their second opponent who had by now made its way out of the cage.

She opened fire on it to distract its attention from Chris, who was chalk white and holding his hand protectively to his chest. Her short check up on her partner cost Jill the split second it would have needed to evade the next blow.

The impact knocked the air out of her lungs and she only realized she had hit the far off wall when she collapsed on all fours, the world going round. Even though her vision was blurry she could see the monster approaching. It lifted her off the ground by her tactical vest, balling a fist and powering up for a strike.

But, as suddenly as it had grabbed her, the monster let go, roaring out in pain. Jill found herself staring at Chris, who'd somehow managed to haul the enormous discarded axe and level a blow at the thing's back.

He stumbled, dropping the oversized weapon to the ground with a deafening clatter. Chris was taking the full force of the enemy's attentions now, allowing Jill a perfect aim at its one weak spot.

She got it three times before it finally keeled over. Chris did the same and she ran up to him, kneeling by his side worriedly, scanning him for visible injuries. The bandage on his arm was soaking crimson and as her eyes moved down to his left hand, Jill gasped.

"Jesus, Chris..."

"Tried to punch it." Chris held up the offended limb, displaying two of his five fingers standing off at odd angles. "Turned out not to be a wise idea." He laughed, and for once didn't bother to keep the strain out of his voice. "At least it isn't my trigger finger."

Jill took out their shrinking first aid kit. "The only thing I can do at the moment is put on a splint."

"It's cool, Jill. We're still in one piece and that's what matters," Chris said.

Jill wasn't sure if the words of encouragement were directed at her, or to convince himself.

Shaking her head, she made a mental map of their options. She'd take a look at her head first, make sure it was still in its rightful place. Swallow some painkillers against the migraine and then get in contact with HQ, tell them to send a chopper and get them the Hell out of here. Fuck Spencer and the mission, they were as unprepared as on the day eight years ago. This time she didn't want to rely on luck they might not have.

"We're going back home," she announced resolutely. "Right away."

Chris sat up abruptly at her words, looking at her incredulously.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "We're close, _so_ close to tracking this bastard down. You think that by the time we come back with reinforcements, he'll still be here? No way, he'll be long gone. This is our one shot at bringing Spencer to justice, and I can't pass that up."

"You can't pass your life up, either," she argued. "I understand the importance of finding Spencer, Chris, believe me, I _do. _But-"

"I don't want to risk your life, Jill." Chris crossed his arms in front of his chest and Jill felt like slapping him a good one for his immature behaviour. "But I can't leave. Not when we're so close. Not when I think about all the people who've gone down fighting, all the people who've been caught up in this guy's fucked up plans."

He smiled at her, breaking the tension in his features with one of his optimistic grins. "Sure, there are monsters. But last time I checked, fighting monsters was what I did for a living."

"God, Chris," Jill groaned and rolled her eyes.

Out of all of them, Chris was the most dedicated. The one who had taken the hardest blow in the first round. All of the survivors fought against the use of bioweaponry, but for Chris it was something more personal than for any of them. She'd often tried to talk him out of his obsession with Wesker, the one big reason driving him on every day. He would never listen. He had all the right not to, but it was not good for him to go on like this.

Sighing heavily, Jill gave a slow nod in defeat. "This is the last time we're doing things your way, Redfield. Next time I'm spending a week holed up in HQ making a mission outline, you won't barge in five minutes before we leave to tell me plans have changed. Next time, we do this smooth and fast and take at least one grenade launcher with us."

Chris shrugged off her remonstrations with a sheepish smile. "Grenade launchers are for pussies. Real men use combat knives."

* * *

**This was supposed to be a Halloween update, but as you can see... it is not. XD All blame on FF and its not understandable reasons for making me unable to log in. **

**Especially to Claire Refield, Ultimolu, x-Artichoke-x, Alavon, donation1740, -Arashi-Storm-Guardian-, cjjs, Romipen, LanieB, Orion89, SnipingWolf and yume girl 91, who took the time to review the last chapter! Thank you so much, you guys.**

**Also a huge thanks to all who checked out the Serpent.**

**Until next time!  
**


	7. Chapter VII

Chapter VII

Chris studied his partner. A bruise blossomed on her blood encrusted temple. The awkward stance of her posture indicated the pain she had to be in. He couldn't help that sharp pang of guilt he felt whenever he dragged her into one of his crusades. But Jill was the best operative they had, and sometimes that overrode even his own personal desire to protect her. She wasn't just his friend, she was also one of BSAA's toughest and most deadly agents. And they'd both signed up for this war, despite his original insistence that she go into hiding after the outbreak.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

"Don't worry. I'm proud owner of a skull at least as thick as yours. It's going to give a bruise and need a hair wash to get the blood out, but I'll be fine."

She patted him on the shoulder to prove her point, and got to her feet. "Come on, big boy. Let's find Spencer before one of his monsters does."

Nodding, he couldn't agree more with his partner.

But before they could proceed, Chris froze at a scuttling sound. A rat could never be so loud, but neither could one of these creatures be so quiet.

The sound gained in volume - whatever caused it was approaching. He tapped Jill on the shoulder and motioned for her to listen.

Years of partnership made words superfluous and she followed his gesture, perking her ears to pick up whatever he had heard. Chris pointed to one of the open cell blocks. Shadow was going to lend them enough cover to be able to appraise the situation without being spotted. Jill pressed against the wall, hiding her slender form from unwanted eyes. Chris slipped into the shadows beside her, rigorous stealth training having made him surprisingly silent, given his huge frame. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinised the dimly lit corridor.

The scuttling turned into footsteps. Hurried, panicked, but most certainly human. Plenty of experience and a healthy dose of intuition made it easy to distinguish the difference by footfall alone. Judging by their gait, this person was frantic, disoriented. Civilian.

As the steps grew louder, a thin shadow began to cast on the ground, drawing closer to where the two BSAA operatives lay in wait. Chris leapt from the darkness, his movements fast and brutal as his hand closed around someone's shirt. There was a clatter of a weapon falling and he found himself pinning a rather elderly gentleman to the wall. Hazel eyes blinked at him in surprise, fright and indignation.

"I gotta warn you now," Chris said and waved his gun around with his spare hand. "I'm a shoot-now, ask-questions-later kinda guy."

"Who... who are you?" the man inquired, as if their presence bothered him more than the torture tract they were standing in. Going by his clothing, Chris didn't need long to put two and two together. This man was one of Spencer's staff, perhaps even his personal butler.

"Not important," he replied and lifted the man further onto his tiptoes. "We're looking for Spencer. And since I'm guessing you work here, you're going to take us to him."

"You did this?"

"Did what?" Jill asked as she emerged from the shadows.

"You'll never get away with this!" the man yelled and struggled in Chris' arms. It was like watching a mouse winding its way out of a cat's mouth. Futile.

Stepping up beside her partner, Jill decided to throw some diplomacy into the pot of intimidation Chris had brewed. "Listen, it seems we're not the only ones after Spencer. He might be luckier if _we_ find him before anyone or anything else does."

"I'm not going back there!" the man squealed. "You're too late! Go wherever you came from as long as you still have legs to carry you!"

"We just want know the best way to get to Spencer," Chris said. "You stick with us and take us to him, and you've got a much better chance of staying safe. You don't, and we leave you to whatever the hell is roaming about here waiting to smear your brains all over the floor. It's your call."

There was an obvious internal conflict mirroring on the man's face. "I won't betray him..."

Chris looked at him with a faint expression of disgust. It baffled him just how these Umbrella psychopaths managed to inspire such fanatical loyalty from their staff.

"You want to live, and you want _him_ to live, then you better take us to him."

That seemed to turn a switch. Either the guy's logical mind had kicked in or he was running low on air from Chris' grip.

"Alright, fine, let me down. None of your reasons to find Lord Spencer could be as lethal to him as his current company. And hurry already, before the guards notice us."

"His current company?"

"I... I... I don't exactly know, but if you two didn't cause that bloodbath out front, then someone did," the man blustered, and Chris was left with the unsettling sensation that they weren't being let in on the whole picture. But they didn't have time to stand around all day interrogating this butler, so he set him down roughly and put a warning hand on the scruff of his neck.

"Come on," he said, giving him a bit of a shove. "Show us the quickest way to Spencer."

In the pit of his stomach there was a tiny thrill of elation. Because as spooked as this man was, he'd just confirmed that Ozwell E. Spencer was in the building. And that meant that they were closer than they'd ever been.

They followed the butler through more corridors, up a set of stairs and two times left. Then luck turned its face away from them again. The moment they stepped on some wooden plates laid out on the floor, the material beneath them gave a weary creaking - before the ground under their feet was suddenly replaced with a gaping hole.

One minute they were standing on solid ground, and the next Chris went crashing through the floor, landing in a pile of dust and debris. Dazed from the impact, he looked up at the hole above their heads. He fumbled for his gun, which had left his grasp somewhere in the duration of the fall. Beside him, the old man was groaning and spluttering.

"Jill...?" A knife tore through his heart as he saw his partner lying a few metres away.

"Shit..." A string of far worse obscenities left his lips as there was a loud creak above their heads, and a split second later he was dragging the old man out of the way as the remainder of the floor came down with a crash.

"Jill? Jill?" he yelled through the cloud of dust.

He saw her, hissing and clambering to her feet close to the wreckage.

"Shit, my gun!" Jill said.

He was at her side in an instant. "Are you..." He stopped in his tracks, suddenly realising that somehow, he felt horribly naked. His gun was gone too.

Jill got to her knees and started to dig through the debris. But three minutes and a few bloody fingertips later her shoulders sank and she let out a deep sigh.

"You get your wish fullfilled," she told Chris. The humor that was supposed accompany her words was null . "Mission style knife only."

"Why can't just one fucking thing go smoothly?" he asked, irritated. "How much more bad luck can two people have? Why can there never be one fucking mission where we just go in, get the target and get home in time for dinner? Why the fuck is it always traps, and monsters, and fucking major architectural malfunctions lying in wait just especially for _us_? It's beyond a fucking jo-"

"Hey..." the butler mumbled, waving his arms.

"...yeah, not now Jeeves, ok?" Chris snapped in retort, before turning back to Jill to continue his tantrum. "I'm serious Valentine, one of us must be jinxed, it's just..."

"HEY!" their new companion hissed, catching Chris' arm. The BSAA operative spun around.

"What _is_... oh."

'It' was apparently a five foot tall, green skinned reptilian monstrosity, which had just spotted its new prey. He was right. They were jinxed. And in a moment or two, they were also going to be dead.

The butler scurried beyond some falled debris, leaving the two agents in the immediate range of their newest enemy. What was standing before them had a striking resemblance to a Hunter, but it was a lot bigger, featuring longer claws and sharper teeth. Their combat knives wouldn't even tickle it.

His lips pressed into a tight line and he furrowed his brows. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his machete and he watched the super-Hunter watch them back, observing its prey and figuring out the more painful way of making it die.

Chris moved forward very slowly, placing his broad form between the creature and Jill. If it wanted to make a meal of his partner, then it was damn well going to go through him first. He could feel Jill tense up behind him and the heart within his chest beat at triple speed. As if to make matters worse, the butler, who had been standing frozen in fear, began to sob. Quiet at first, but increasing in hysteria he soon drew a peaked glance from the slavering creature.

Then the Hunter decided it was too hungry to wait any longer.

Chris couldn't tell whether the butler's breakdown was a bliss or a terror to them, but it garnered the creature's attention for a precious moment. He detected a blur of movement as Jill initiated the combat, faster than he, or even the Hunter had expected.

She sprinted up to the reptile, passing it and coming to stand a few metres behind it. It turned its massive body towards her, having chosen its first toy to play with.

She had lost her fucking mind, he decided. He'd seen her do a lot of daring and stupid stuff over the years, but this was really taking the biscuit.

Only when the monster turned on her, did he realize that her plan had more backbone than he had initally attributed it with. With the Hunter focused on Jill, Chris had full access to its unprotected back. As it raised its huge claws to swipe for his partner, Chris slipped up behind it, looking down at his woefully inadequate machete before ramming it home into the Hunter's ribcage. The monster let out a screech and tried to flail round, but he kept his hands clinging onto the hilt of his weapon for dear life. As strong as he was,, he couldn't match the thing's virally enhanced power for long.

The ball was on to Jill now. They only had so much time before the Hunter got a lucky strike in and even with their medical equipment still available, the risk of another combat wound was too high to take. Running up to their opponent Jill swung her knife in a curved line across the Hunter's throat. The skin ripped and blood gushed, but she had apparently not cut deep enough.

With a strength that exceeded any normal human's by far, the Hunter abandoned the knife in its ribs and slapped a claw against Jill's chest, sending her stumbling back until she hit the wall.

Chris braced one booted foot against the thing's back and yanked his knife out with all the force he could muster. He dodged a swipe at his head and rolled out of the way, retreating to the pile of rubble. They needed to regroup, and they no longer had the element of surprise.

The creature charged after him, and at that moment there was a hysterical shriek that couldn't have been Jill's. The butler made a dash for it.

Fortunately for Chris, and unfortunately for the poor bastard who'd drawn its attention, the Hunter decided to opt for the weaker specimen and made a leap for their prisoner. It landed on top of the butler's chest and pinned him to the floor, baring its teeth in threatening fashion.

The butler barely had time to let out a scream before the Hunter sank its teeth into his arm, worrying at the appendage like a dog on a bone. I was clearly intent on toying with its prey before it tore him limb from limb.

Chris shot Jill a desperate look. His sense of duty told him to intervene, but his sense of survival was screaming at him to take the opportunity and get the fuck out. As much as his standards of honour were high, the sheer volume of blood on the ground told him that it was only a matter of time before their companion was dead.

He broke out into a run, grabbing Jill's arm as he passed her, dragging her away from the feeding monster.

"Come on..." he hissed, wincing at the sounds of the dying man, and the Hunter's screech of triumph at its impending kill.


	8. Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII

There was no sense in playing a game with bad cards.

You couldn't bluff against teeth and claws.

This round went to the Hunter. Jill let Chris pull her along as they ran, yanking her arm free when she had gathered enough speed.

From the underground torture tract they had fallen one level deeper; into some kind of sewers. The dirty water splashed as the two agents ran through it, soaking Jill's combat boots and trousers up to her knees. Still, she preferred sewer water to Hunters any day.

For most of the time they ran like rats in the maze, blind and disoriented, taking sharp corners and zig-zagging through the labyrinth in hopes of losing their follower. Having to tread through water didn't exactly help in stealth matters, so priority number one was to get as much distance as possible between them and the Hunter.

When she thought that they were far enough Jill slowed her pace until she came to a halt. Chris skidded in the filthy water almost slamming into a wall. Holding it for support he panted, catching his breath.

"Shit..." he muttered, and punched the palm of his hand into the wall with an angry gesture. "What a fucking mess."

Looking over at Jill, he frowned. "I'm sorry, ok?" he snapped, his temper getting the better of him, even though she hadn't even accused him of anything. "We should have gone for backup. You were right. Happy?"

Jill was perplexed for an instant, her mind refusing to believe that, of all the bad moments in the world, Chris had chosen this one to start an argument. She felt a pang of annoyance at his immaturity and opened her mouth to form a fitting retort. Halfway through she decided for the better and shut her mouth again, settling for a disdainful snort instead.

"Calm down, ok?" she said, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "This isn't the first time we're up to our ears in shit. Get yourself together and let's figure out how to get out of here alive."

Chris' eyes fixated her with the intensity of a predator before his features relaxed and guilt replaced anger. "Sorry... are you all right?"

She followed his sight and drew her fingers over the ripped fabric covering her chest. The Hunter had swiped her a good one, eternalizing its claw-marks on her shirt. Her hand came back clean as she withdrew it and she held it up for Chris to see. "Kevlar."

Chris nodded relieved. "Don't suppose your radio survived the fall?"

Her hand went to the empty place at her hip, closing around thin air instead of her walkie-talkie. She couldn't remember when she had lost the radio, but there was no going back to search for it. She supposed Chris had lost his too, hence his initial questioning.

She sighed. "Can't be that easy."

"We'll have to find another way then."

That was easier said than done. In a maze with no sense of orientation and a lack of weapons to protect themselves, they were left with only mad courage and dwindling hope to go up against whatever monstrosities lurked down here.

"No more confrontations if avoidable," she said.

Chris nodded approvingly.

"Since the way back is no-go, be my guest and take the lead." Running her tongue across her lips, she gave a small smirk. "And don't even think about giving me that Ladies-first talk."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Chris quipped back, sauntering forward with a nonchalant air. They kept close to the wall, forcing their breathing to a slow and calm rhythm, as if they weren't basically walking to certain death. Chris' hand gripped the hilt of his knife ,holding it in front of him in a defensive stance.

There was something horribly primitive about only being armed with a blade. She wa reminded of her first encounters with Umbrella's creations. She had felled many a carrier with a knife at Arklay, after realizing that bullets were a luxury only more dangerous monsters had the privilege to get a taste of. Ever since the Mansion Incident, every spare moment was dedicated to training, fleshing out techniques and discovering new BOW weak-points.

Watching Chris ahead of her, she knew that it was no different for him. When he wasn't on active duty then he was bulking up in the gym. She would sometimes tease him about it, joke how Mr Universe would be no match against him if he kept up that schedule. But at the end of the day Jill agreed with his reasons.

After having witnessed what Wesker had become at Rockfort, Chris had started preparing for the inevitable square off against the man's unnatural strength.

Suddenly, her foot hit something in the shallow water, and she bent down to investigate. Her fingers closed around a long, metallic object.

"Hey Chris..." she whispered. "You're gonna love this..."

She held up a crank.

"You've _got _to be kidding me," he replied. "What is it with this guy and cranks?"

She shrugged her shoulders, and said in fake admiration, "He's a man of refined tastes."

"He's obsessed, that's what he is."

The crank had a hexagonal shape and reminded Jill about the underground complex under the Arklay Mansion. Back then it had unlocked a hidden path in the caves and helped her find a way back to the surface.

"Well, one thing is sure," she contemplated as she turned the crank in her hands. "We will certainly

need this."

She wondered exactly where the implement was designed to fit. And why, for that matter, was it lying in an underground sewer complex which was home to super-Hunters and God knew what else? Had some poor soul dropped it in their hurry to escape one of the monsters? Where there maybe more survivors down here?

Jill stowed the crank to the rest of her equipment as they set forth to continue. With only a machete and a combat knife they weren't exactly equipped to face more BOWs, so every wasted minute was a minute closer to death.

The sewers were a literal labyrinth. It was difficult to make a mental map of the place. Little corridors branched off to either side of the path they walked on and there was no telling where all of them led. Jill guessed that most would dead-end at one point or another and she didn't really want to risk finding herself in a Hunter nest, if such a place existed.

With the noise they caused by treading through the water it was necessary to stop at regular intervals to listen out for any give-away sounds. As it turned out, their opponent seemed to have lost their trail. She hoped that it hadn't just gone to fetch its siblings.

As they rounded the next corner luck sent them a message.. Jill had never been so glad to see a corpse. And not just any. It wasn't civilian, that was for sure. It was a man in his forties dressed in a suit. He had broken sunglasses hanging over his nose and a comms device in his ear. Slumped against the wall, only his upper body was visible.

That was enough to give Jill an impression of what had happened to him. The shirt that was once white now hung in crimson strips over his chest. Jill dared to bet her last penny that the reason for the man's death had been one of the massive axes wielded by those grotesque hulks.

"Seems we're not the only ones after Spencer," she said as she bent down, reaching under the suit to reveal a leather holster under the corpse's armpit. A Glock was still strapped inside.

"They killed him before he could even draw his weapon."

She took the gun and handed it to Chris, who shoved it into his holster with visible irritation. "Who is this guy? No way in Hell do I let some other unit get to Spencer before we do."

She unhooked the comms device from the corpse's ear and traced it back to a small radio at his waist. The thing was soaked, but whoever the man's employers were, they had invested into waterproof equipment.

Jill pressed the button on the radio, leaving the frequency as it was set. "Hello? Can somebody hear me? Over."

Chris snorted. "Waste of time."

"There might be survivors."

"Yeah, and if they still have their radios they know they're not alone any more. You can't know if it's friend or foe."

"Or monster-lunch," Jill suggested, the strain evident in her voice. She didn't know what was worse. BOWs or competing organizations. God knew, perhaps even other pharmaceutical companies wanting to tickle the secrets of bioweaponry from Spencer before he took his last breath.

"How many bullets do we have?"

Chris took out the weapon and ejected the clip. "Seven."

"Half a clip."

"Seven more than we had before. Where's your optimism, Valentine?"

"I don't know. I must have lost it along with my radio."

The joking tone was lost from Chris' face as he spoke. "You all right?"

She shook her head, sighing. "Yeah. Come on. I don't want to strike roots here."

She let Chris take the lead with their new handgun. If anything came their way, he had better chances at felling it than her. And somehow, Jill thought, she was sure that they would need the weapon before they found the right place to insert the crank in.

_And unlock even more horrors with it._

As if it was on cue, splashing noises suddenly resounded in the corridor. But not because they moved.

Something else did.

* * *

**Dun, dun dun! What is it? You know?**


	9. Chapter IX

Chapter IX

Chris tensed up, his finger finding its way to the safety on the gun, checking it was off. He kept it readied for now, the machete raised in his left hand. If it was a regular carrier, there would be no sense in wasting bullets.

Squinting into the darkness, he waited for the shadows to take form. But it screeched before it became visible, and there was no doubting what they were facing.

"Hunter..." he murmured under his breath.

And as it prowled towards them, he couldn't help but notice that its hide was intact, meaning it couldn't have been the same one from earlier. The place was probably overrun with them, and seven bullets wouldn't get them far.

The creature was poised, ready to strike at any time. Chris and Jill remained perfectly still.

"We need to conserve ammo," he said. "I'm going to slow it down with a shot to the kneecap, then we can get in and start hacking at the throat while its down."

_Just ought to avoid the razor sharp teeth and claws. Piece of cake._

But it seemed like a better idea than emptying a clip on it, especially with at least one other confirmed Hunter lurking around in this maze.

With Hunters he had learned the best defense was offence. Fights were inevitable once spotted and it was better to cripple the BOW before the BOW crippled you.

As soon as he lodged one of their seven bullets into Hunter flesh, Jill started to run. She gripped the blade , sidestepped and got behind the monster, hewing the combat knife into less protected skin.

Chris followed up her attack by reholstering his gun, charging like a madman at the reptile. The creature flailed and thrashed, down on one knee but still intent on having its prey. Raising his machete, he began to saw through the hide that covered its throat, hacking with all his strength. The first beads of blood began to appear around his blade. In his triumph he didn't have the presence of mind to dodge a swipe from the Hunter, who sent him reeling backwards.

He was lucky that it didn't follow up with another blow. Jill saw to that. While he collected himself off the ground she garnered its attention with attacks of her own. For an inappropriate moment he had to think of _Dances With Wolves_ before he shook the thought off, much like the Hunter shook off Jill's attacks as if they were nothing but nuisance.

A moment later Chris was back on top of the creature and wrapped his legs around its back as if he were riding a mechanical bull. He resumed his work on its throat. His teeth were bared, a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Once the tenacious hide had been breached, it was just a matter of cutting down to a main vein or artery.

The Hunter kept trashing, swinging its claws at both him and Jill, but his partner did good work at keeping the reptile's attention – and most of its teeth – fixed on her. There was one last gurgle before hot, frothing blood bubbled from its slit throat and the heavy body collapsed in the sewer water.

Jill gave him a breathless nod. "Clean work."

He heaved a massive sigh when he was sure that the Hunter wouldn't rise again. Only then did he realise just how wildly his heart was pounding as he looked down to his blood soaked hands and clothing.

"Nothing clean about it," he said with a grimace. "God damn it, I'd kill for a shower."

He kicked the Hunter's body with a splash of water, and wiped his knife on his already-filthy combat trousers.

"You were great," he told her. "If we can do it like that for every Hunter, we've got nothing to worry about."

Jill had to laugh at his comment, although there was nothing funny about it. "We can take on six more, optimally. Let's get going," she suggested. "Before the blood draws its siblings closer."

There were no more corpses on the way for them to loot. This caused a mix of emotions in Chris. There were a few possibilities. Either the rivaling team wasn't very big – or there was no rival team at all. The man they had found could belong to Spencer's bodyguards, or the guys they had found in the mansion. Option number two did not sit so well with him. It included elite agents with only few casualties. They could be wheel-chairing Spencer out of his fortress by now, while he and Jill fought for their lives in a godforsaken sewer system.

He almost bumped into his partner as she stopped abruptly. Something was wrong. Knowing that conversation was not the way to go, he scanned the area and perked his ears. Jill pointed to their right, to the corner of a passage that snaked behind a heavy brick wall.

Chris disengaged the safety of the gun. There was splashing in the water. Somebody was moving and he knew before he saw the newcomer that it was no monster. Hunters were more agile, those guards were louder. None of them limped.

From behind the corner appeared a man clad in a white labcoat that was soaked up to his thighs. He yelped as he saw them and the gun in his hands dropped into the water with a loud plop.

"Don't kill me!"

Jill put a finger to her lips and hissed, "Shut the Hell up or you'll attract them, you idiot."

The guy took both his hands and placed them over his mouth symbolically. Chris and Jill jogged up to him and while his partner fished for the gun in the water, Chris used his weapon for a little intimidation. He placed the muzzle to the man's chest.

"You do anything stupid, you're monster food, understood?"

Two quick nods showed that the argument was clear,

"Who are you?"

"H... Henry. Henry Cottswald."

"Cottswald, huh? And what are you doing down here?" He waved the gun around to make a point.

"I... uh... I," Cottswald stammered, eyes locked on the weapon. Eventually the mental block subsided and he looked Chris in the eye, visibly confused. "You... you didn't see them?"

Chris narrowed his eyes. "See who?"

The man gasped, his eyes widening. "The sentries, of course! His henchmen. Somebody let them lose." He pointed to a crimson spot on Chris' shirt. "You're lucky you're still alive."

It was Jill who spoke next. Chris noticed she had tucked away Cottswald's weapon. "How many of them are there?"

"If I knew! I'm just the assistant of Lord Spencer's personal doctor. Or I guess, that's what I was, before everything went to Hell." When there was a lack of response, Cottswald felt himself prompted to continue. "Someone infiltrated the Estate. First thing I see in the morning when I look into the bathroom mirror is one of those giant reptiles taking a swipe at my head.

I was lucky to get away. The few security personnel gathered the rest of the staff, but our numbers dwindled fast. That's how I learned about those sentries. Spencer kept them locked up beneath the Estate for years. I really don't know how much truth there is to their story. The others were scared and rumors spread even faster than death.

I heard they were some failed experiments, and I heard that they were researchers of their own once upon a time, accidentally succumbing to infection whilst retaining some of their intelligence. Spencer keeps them as his watchdogs and throws an unfortunate soul down there every now and then, to observe them slowly rip their prey apart. Somebody else told me that they escaped and it was impossible to catch them, so in order to do away with them Spencer ordered a pack of those reptiles, those... Hunters? to be unleashed to kill each other in the sewers. I don't know what I want to believe, or if any of this is true. But I know that I don't want to wait for them to find me and running has kept me alive so far."

Jill asked, "Where are the other survivors?"

Cottswald shook his head. "There are no others any more. We were three in the end, Smith, Ketner and I. They were with security and they thought to know of an escape passage through the sewers. But once we got there..." he shook his head. "It is impossible to access. The sentries made sure of that."

"They destroyed the escape route?"

"Not directly. It requires a special mechanism to open. But some pieces are missing. Hunters caught Smith during our search and one of the sentries got Ketner."

Why wasn't he surprised at the prospect of more puzzles? Spencer was pathologically obsessed with these things. Jill tapped him on the shoulder. "Chris, the crank."

"What?"

"It could open that passage. It might be the missing piece."

His mouth formed a small 'o'. But of course! The other crank had opened a gate too, this one might just have the same use.

He nodded to Cottswald. "Do you remember where that place was? Can you lead us there?"

"I can try."

Their new companion took the lead, something that neither Chris or Jill objected to. If he wanted to play the bait, they weren't going to stop him. But they encountered neither monsters or corpses. Cottswald's escape route turned out to be a metal ladder locked behind a row of solid steel grates, much like they had seen earlier at the entrance to the basement.

"This has to be the same mechanism," Jill announced hopefully. She took out the crank and showed it to both men. "Look for a hexagonal hole."

They set out in search of the proclaimed mechanism. Five minutes and two false alarms later Chris' nerves were on edge. There was nothing they could stick that damn crank into. Spencer had been creative once again: he had implemented another kind of puzzle.

Beside the metal grates stood a stone platform with a decorative emblem on top. Round-shaped and made from bronze was a fancy looking plaque that missed one of its four parts. Chris swore under his breath. But at least the exit was in sight. They just had to find one stupid artifact, and between Arklay, Rockfort, Russia and today, Chris had spent half his life playing Umbrella's unique and twisted versions of Easter egg hunting.

"What do we do now?" Jill asked.

"We look for it," he said. "Knowing Spencer there will be no way of getting around it. We need that piece."

They were ankle deep in murky water, and the fragment of emblem could be anywhere. It was not an appealing prospect and the impatient part of him was raging at being thus delayed. But there was no other option.

Jill explained the upcoming procedure to Cottswald. "We split to search the perimeter, eye-contact at all times. If we're lucky, the piece is around here, somewhere in the water close to the exit." It was evident from her voice that she didn't place the slightest hope into such a scenario. "In case of enemy sighting, regroup and do exactly as you are told. Understood?"

Cottswald nodded, but then gripped at his empty waistband. "I have no weapon."

"Believe me, any weapon is more effective in our hands than it is in yours," Chris told him.

"Ready?" Jill asked.

Chris touched his knuckles to his forehead in a mock salute.

"Ready," he told her. And there was a moment when he felt a brief, cocky rush of exhilaration at the latest impossible situation they found themselves in. They'd killed three of those sentries with barely any ammo. They'd just taken out a Hunter with their bare hands. They might be stuck in a dead end sewer hunting through monster-infested crap-water for a piece of emblem, but they were stronger, faster, and more agile than they'd ever been in their lives. Every mission that cropped up, they were that bit better trained, until Chris could honestly say that here and now, today, he and Jill were in their prime. And that counted for a lot.

So Chris Redfield, the eternal optimist, set out, scuffing through the water in search of that fragment of artefact. _Let the monsters come_, he thought with a manic little grin. They'd take them all down.

An interminable and very unsuccessful while later he could hear Jill groan in frustration.

"This is a waste of time. There must be a way to circumvent that puzzle."

Chris agreed with her from all his heart, but knowing Spencer this was the one and only possible option.

"I don't think-"

"Hey! Over here!" Cottswald called. Chris could have snapped his throat for making such a fuss. That had just been a straightforward invitation to all resident monsters: Fresh, live dinner – first come, first serve!

Cottswald pointed to a small hole in a wall farther away from the exit. It wasn't hard to figure out what it was designed for. Jill inserted the crank. The two agents exchanged a dubious glance, then Chris moved forward and grabbed the crank, starting to turn.

First there were only creaks and crunches coming from inside the wall. Then, suddenly, a part of the floor started to rise and Chris kept turning the crank until they lifted it to the ceiling. The underside of the platform consisted of a number of spikes, most of them rusty and coated in layers of dry blood.

He let go of the crank and the platform crashed to the ground with frightening speed. It impacted with a splash and he wiped murky water from his face. What remained was a beaming grin, mirrored on Jill's expression.

"All we gotta do is find them, and lure them back here," he mused. "We can press on, explore the place, try to get our bearings, and as soon as we hit trouble, we high-tail it back here and hey presto... monster panini!"

Of course, if it were that simple, they'd be laughing. They'd just have to hope that they didn't come across something that could outrun them.

* * *

**A great many thanks to Ultimolu, donatien1740, Skriptix, Avalon, cjjs, Veronika115, rivendellelve, Lime Rickey, Romipen, yume girl 91, Shortey and Claire Redfield for reviewing! Your continued feedback help me improve greatly and fuels motivation!**


	10. Chapter X

**SORRY.**

* * *

Chapter 10

Spiked death platforms did not very often inspire a sense of reassurance in Jill. This was a notable exeption. Scavenger hunting was far more enjoyable if you could squash your enemies to death with no more than the twist of a crank.

They both had guns now, albeit hers only holding three bullets. But the trap was certainly a one-hit kill. An ammo conserving one-hit kill.

As she let her mind wander, Jill picked up the sound of rattling chains – and it surely didn't belong to the boys experimenting around with the platform. Chris seemed to hear it too, because he threw worried glance her way. Merely Cottswald missed out on the approaching noise and Jill grabbed his arm, placing a finger to her lips in warning.

Cottswald nodded, but he didn't manage to keep the panic from his features.

If it was what she thought it was, then she could sympathise with the man.

Those sentry things creeped her out beyond all measure, especially after she'd glimpsed what was left of their human sentience. The fact that they'd tortured people for a hobby while still human made them even more macabre than any virus-enduced mutation there was.

"Alright," Chris stage-whispered across the sewer track. "We know we're faster than these things. You make a run for the trap and get it wound up, I'll get its attention and be right behind you."

"And Valentine," he added, scrunching his nose and winking, "Try not to drop the damn thing on my head."

Jill was about to come up with a retort, but the lurch in her stomach told her this was not the right moment to start a verbal dispute. Silently she nodded, knowing how important discrete behaviour was in such a situation.

She backtracked to the crank place, pulling Cottswald with her.

"Don't move," she told him while grabbing the crank. One Hunter was still lurking around somewhere and God alone knew what other monstrosities called these sewers their home. The last thing they needed was a civilian screwing up their plans by running around like a headless chicken.

The rusty chains squeaked as she turned the crank, but Jill was sure that the mechanism was going to hold out. Now it was up to Chris.

"Hey, you there!" Chris' voice, echoing in the corridor.

For once Jill was not mad at him for giving away their position. By way of announcing their arrival, he let out a loud whoop of "_YEEEEEHAH_!" as he careered through the muddy water and brought the sentry closer to the trap. Jill's arms ached as she braced her weight against the crank, waiting for her partner to lure the monster into its inevitable doom.

But she didn't wait long enough. And it wasn't because of the tiring muscles in her limbs that she let go of the metal rod all at once, or that she yelled for Chris to retreat.

A new player had entered the game.

To even up the odds.

Their first Hunter-friend had finally found them, blood dripping from its wounds and hunger gleaming in its eyes. Its claws dug deep into the portion of wall Jill had stood against. She let out a yelp as she jumped to the side, all the while trying to retrieve the handgun from its holster.

"SHIT!" Chris cried at the top of his voice from the other side of the platform. If Jill hadn't been so busy fighting for her own life she would have worried more about his fate with the sentry, but as it was, the huge reptile demanded all of her attention.

"What the FUCK, Jill?" Chris yelled over, but a Hunter screech answered his question before she had the time to even open her mouth.

With Cottswald cowering behind her she opted for defence instead of offence, blatantly aware that such a combat tactic was not going to bring her victory against an enraged Hunter. But going for an attack meant abandoning the civilian and that was like signing the poor guy's death warrant.

"I'm coming," Chris informed her in between a constant stream of swearing.

_Come fast, _she thought and bared her teeth at the BOW in front her. She had already pocketed three gashes across the arm, the fresh blood stimulating the thing's hunger. She feigned a sidestep, catching the Hunter's exposed shoulder and digging her knife into the limb. It screamed, giving her the split second she needed to perform a follow-up attack.

Gripping the gun with both hands, Jill unleashed the three bullets to its head. One went amiss, one scraped its cheek and one lodged itself into its skull. She didn't expect it to fall, but it didn't show as much as a sign of slowing down. Her actions only seemed to make it a whole lot angrier.

And it was going to leave that anger out on her.

Chris suddenly charged across the platform, gun in one hand, machete in the other. With a roar, he sprang off the platform in a running jump and launched himself at the Hunter. With the force of the landing, he managed to lodge his knife into the thing's ribcage, twisting it with all his strength to elicit a tortured scream from the reptilian monster. Unfortunately, he also managed to drop his handgun in the process.

"Jill," he grunted to his partner as he gripped the knife hilt with both hands. "Gun."

Jill dove for the dropped weapon, her fingers enclosing around cold metal in the murky water. In the next instant she had the muzzle pressed against Hunter skull, her finger squeezing the trigger with satisfaction.

"_Hasta la vista,_ bastard."

The wet sound muffled the gunshot and the monster sank to the floor.

They both whirled around at Cottswald's ear-piercing scream. The sight was everything but pretty. The man had half an axe sticking out of his chest, the look in his eyes making it clear that he hadn't quite grasped the condition of his situation yet.

"Holy shit!" Chris cursed, both of them taking a step back. The sentry had apparently figured out how to climb up the low platform after them, currently discarding Cottswald's limp body from its axe. It lumbered across the expanse and Jill hissed to herself.

It was less than ideal. Whoever was holding the crank would be a sitting duck for hits. Chris beat her to it and braced himself against the installment.

"Once it's here, I'm gonna raise the platform. Make sure it thinks you're tastier than I am."

She cursed under her breath, ejecting the clip of Chris' gun to check for bullets. Four shots was all they had.

The sentry was now descending the platform. Chris began to turn the crank and Jill focused on the disfigured monster. Swinging her arms above her head she yelled at it. A few curses seemed convincing enough provocations and the hulk started to follow after her, dragging its murder weapon behind. Jill led it under the raised platform, making sure to put in a last-minute sprint.

"Go for it!" she called to Chris. "Hurry up!"

A moment later the platform fell with an almighty thud, sending a wave of putrid air towards her as it descended. She had been quick enough to get out of the spikes' way. The sentry did not share that luck. There was a sickening crack of splintering bone and the wet, dull noise of cartilage and muscle giving way.

The platform had broken under the strain of usage, but they climbed it to inspect their work nonetheless. Something caught Jill's eye and she bent down to brush some loose stones from their place.

"Oh God!"

Further digging revealed metal amidst the stone and she gathered it up in her arms, staring at it open-mouthed for at least a full minute.

"We got the piece, Chris! We got the damn piece!"

He beamed at the news, patting her on the shoulder. "Eagle eyes you got there. Let's go, before we get company!"

They began to stride purposefully in the direction of the exit, armed with their precious emblems. Jill's heart still raced and her pupils were dilated with the familiar rush of adrenaline that was keeping her moving forward and silencing the feeling of pain from her injuries.

When they reached the grates Jill tried to figure out how a decorative metal emblem – a _fourth _of a metal emblem to be exact - was going to trigger such a complicated mechanism. She had to give Spencer his due. Nobody beat him to sadistic traps and riddles.

As soon as they inserted the piece into its destined space, the steel gates that blocked the ladder at the end of the corridor gave a loud clank, then slowly started moving up.

She didn't wait until the grates had lifted completely, ducking under them and moving towards the ladder. Risking a hopeful glance upwards, Jill's heart rejoiced at the sight. Tiny droplets landed on her face, making cold, clean rivulets through the grime, and she looked at Chris and smiled.

It didn't matter what was waiting for them at the top, it had to be better than being stuck like rats in such a Hellish maze. She brushed at the water on her face, smearing the dirt on her cheek into some horrendous war painting. Inspecting her hand, she was awestruck by the small drops that collected in her palm. Rainwater.

They had finally found the surface.


	11. Chapter XI

**Writers Block is officially banned! Let's get back to action!**

* * *

Chapter XI

"Let's get the Hell out of these sewers."

It was the best thing he'd ever heard and it certainly didn't have to be repeated. He took hold of the smooth steel of the ladder rungs, pulling himself up. The change in air was like a punch in the face, albeit a pleasant one. Murky sewers were bad enough and they were even worse when they served as Hunter playground.

Clambering out of the opening at the top he cast a cursory glance around. Finding the coast clear, he reached his hand back to give Jill a thumbs up.

"Monster-free up here."

He could hear the rusty ladder objecting as his partner followed him to the surface. There were some muttered curses, then Jill reached the top with a distinctively darker expression than she'd sported before.

"I think I need the med pack."

She presented him her left arm. Three long gashes split the fabric of her sleeve and he could tell for sure that they were not oozing sewer water.

"Shit, Jill..."

"It looks worse than it is, really. I just don't want it to look at it all the time."

Although injuries were part of the job hazard, the original fear of infection was still there and it was as prominent as on the first day. Things had improved dramatically since the first outbreak in Raccoon, medically. Back then a bite equaled a death warrant. But now the BSAA and countless other organisations had come up with a couple of experimental antivirals. If applied within a certain time post exposure an unstable viral strain could be more or less prevented from taking over the host body But, as with everything else in the world, the deal with the antivirals was the cost. If you were an ordinary mortal and didn't have access to the kind of resources that the BSAA did, the antiviral was as far out of reach as it had been back on day one.

The BSAA equipped their high-risk teams with one vial for extreme emergencies. Extreme emergencies meant bites-only, where the infection ratio was one-hundred percent. With claw marks, gashes and other more superficial injuries you ran a forty percent chance of getting away unharmed. The sixty percent infection ratio did not warrant the antiviral to be used out in the field.

"Let's find us a dry spot," he suggested and took his eyes off Jill's arm.

Jill was a special case anyway, what with her infection back in Raccoon. They had never openly talked about it. She didn't want to tell and he didn't want to press. However, Chris had never been the type of guy to live in uncertainty. She didn't know and she'd probably kill him if she ever found out, but he'd looked into her medical records some time ago. The antiviral Oliviera had brewed up back then hadn't exactly been state of the art. Be it because of his medical incompetence or technological obstacles, Jill had never been cured of the T-virus.

Traces of it remained, dormant, kept at bay by natural antibodies Jill's system produced. In other words, she was a ticking bomb. Nobody knew if or when the infection would erupt again. The antibodies she carried were strong enough to keep the infection at bay at the moment, but nobody knew how long that would last, or what effects a new exposure would have on her. Some people speculated that she was immune, but Chris couldn't help but be skeptical. Where Umbrella's atrocities were concerned, it seemed more realistic to expect the worst.

They settled under a sheltered area and Chris took out the med kit. Gingerly he sliced some of the material of Jill's sleeve and peeled it away to reveal a large, angry gash underneath. The edges were torn and mangled, pulled apart by the force of her exertion in the fight. Chris looked her up and down. Her eyes were shining and her face was flushed. She was probably too hyped up on adrenaline to realise what a mess her arm was in. Still, the same could probably go for him and his numerous wounds. But that was part of their training, choking down the pain and carrying on like they were the picture of health.

"I'll dress this as best as I can," he said, taking a swab and some alcohol gel and pressing it to the wound in an effort to clean it somehow. "But you were right. We need to get the Hell out of here and get backup."

Green eyes met hers with a worried intensity. "I'm not going risk anything else happening to you."

"You seen yourself in a mirror lately?" Jill countered with more bitterness than he had anticipated. "Don't think you look any better than me." She hissed at the alcohol getting to her wound. "We're in the same boat, Chris, so stop patronizing me. We'll get out of this together, as a team. We're partners, so treat me as one."

"I was just..." He faltered for a moment, crestfallen. "I'm not patronising you, Jill. Why do you think I always insist on being paired up with you? If I thought you were a liability, I'd tell you to stay at home. You're the best at what you do and you're damn sure the only person in the world that I'd trust to watch my back."

He trailed off, frowning slightly. "But that doesn't mean that I'm not completely terrified of something happening to you. It's like... I need you, because you're a great agent, but at the same time, I can't stand it every time you get hurt. And I swear to God, every single near miss gets harder and harder to..." He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat. "Well... you know how it is..." he said gruffly, looking away. "I just... don't want to lose my partner, is all."

Jill didn't look at him as he spoke, fixing the floor with her gaze.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean it like that. I could never wish for a better partner and friend." She tried to ease the tension with a half hearted laugh. "I guess the stress is getting to me. I'll have to mail Spencer my counseling bills when we're done here."

"It's cool..." he mumbled, wrapping the bandage around her arm. "We're injured, we're stressed, and this whole mission has been one big mess from start to finish. I can't blame you." Tying a knot in the white gauze, he looked up at her and gave her the brightest smile he could muster. "All done."

He stared intently at her injured arm, frowning at the tiny beads of blood which were already starting to seep through the grubby bandages. Her pupils were wide, dilated with adrenaline and her hair clung damply to her cheeks. He'd seen her in this sort of state more times than he'd care to recall, but with every fresh disaster, the gnawing anxiety that he might lose her was slowly spiraling into an uncontrollable paranoia.

He didn't know exactly how it happened, but before he realised what he was doing his lips were abruptly pressed to hers with a rough, desperate compulsion. His arm wound itself around the small of her back as he kissed her. It was only the sharp, metallic taste of blood on her lips which brought him to his senses, and he drew back as though he'd been burned.

There was a horrible lurch in his stomach as he saw her shocked, almost hurt expression. He looked away, gritting his teeth. It was the kiss that he'd been holding back for the better part of a decade, that he'd imaged so many times over, and it had happened in the worst way possible, under the most horrible circumstances.

"I'm not sorry!" he blurted out. "I know I should be sorry, but I'm not." His voice was much too loud, and he lowered his tone, glancing around the perimeter to make sure that his sudden outburst hadn't alerted anything to their presence. "This is bullshit. I don't want to lose you and I don't want to be just your partner."

Jill looked slightly stunned, her expression distressed. "This...this isn't the time or the place, Chris..." she said quietly, her tone flat. "I...can't think about this right now. I just want to get Spencer and get out of here."

He winced at her words, and the lack of emotion in her voice was like a punch to the chest. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it was painful and he bit back the urge to spill his guts to the woman in front of him, to let ten years of not-so-carefully repressed emotion come tumbling out. Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded slightly.

"Yeah," he replied despondently. "We better get moving."


	12. Chapter XII

**This story deserves to be finished. ;)  
**

* * *

Chapter XII

Chris was an idiot.

Of all bad moments in the world, he had chosen the worst. This mission was hardly a walk in the park to begin with. Couldn't he have at least waited until they were airlifted before he let his emotions get the better of him?

Because Spencer's hellhole of a mansion was certainly not the place for romance. And something told her that Chris was not thinking of optimal battle tactics.

She had never thought that a love confession – especially from him – would anger her so much. It was not that she didn't have feelings in return. But not here. Here, they were on the job. They were soldiers. They were partners. She had to trust him to watch her back, goddamnit, not her ass.

Shaking her head, Jill let go of the thought. There were enough distractions as it was. She wasn't getting hung up in another one.

Unclasping the pistol from its holster, she checked the clip. Empty. Nice. With her only three bullets spent on the last Hunter in the sewers she had effectively run out of ammo. At best, she could use the weapon to clonk someone over the head with it now.

As they reached the end of the outer hallway, they found themselves face to face with a back door to the estate. It was, surprisingly, unlocked, unguarded and monster-free.

The corridor continued on the other side. Jill stopped at one of the two windows. Chris joined her.

"Well, no dogs gonna break through here," he said.

There was nothing beneath them but the angry sea, beating restlessly against the mansion walls.

They proceeded. The hallway took a corner. As they rounded it, both agents froze to their spots. As soon as Jill shook off her stupor, she ran up to one of the two fallen bodies and checked for a pulse.

"Dead as stone."

Whether they had belonged to Spencer's security team or were from another infiltrating agency, the black suits had said goodbye to the world quite recently.

"What did this to them?"

Jill examined the corpses. Contrary to the men they had found in the main hall, these still held all their blood in their bodies. Who-, or whatever had done this, had gone for a clean kill. That discarded the sentries from the list of possible assailants. Hunters ripped and bit, and that were only two characteristics Jill couldn't find on these men. The reason of death was quite evident.

"Someone broke their necks."

"Someone who doesn't care for ammo or weapons," Chris said and pointed at the Beretta one of them still grasped on to.

Jill unclenched the stiff fingers from around the pistol and checked the clip for bullets. "Four left."

"They sure fought it out," Chris said and showed her a small hole in the wall. "Fast enemies or bad marksmen. And there are more here, look. Seven in total. That's seven shots that didn't hit whatever they were supposed to."

"There's no blood on the floor either," Jill said. "Looks to me like they didn't land a single good hit."

Chris gritted his teeth. "Or whatever they were shooting at doesn't bleed. Peachy prospect."

Jill moved to the other corpse and began to search it for equipment, but only came up with an empty handgun.

"I wonder if they had full clips when the fight began."

Chris shrugged. "Can't tell. Our best bet is to get going and catch whatever did this to them while it's still tired from the fight."

She nodded and exchanged the empty weapon at her side with the newly found gun. After all, four bullets were a lot better than none.

"Let's find Spencer before this thing does."

They only had to round another corner, as she spotted a pair of large oak double doors up ahead. The wood was ornately carved and Jill was sure that the door alone cost as much as her savings for a year. Typical Spencer – spend all your money on antique décor and ignore the monsters running riot under your house.

Chris put his hand on the doorknob, but she quickly signalled him to stop, pressing her ear against the chilly wood. She had hoped to at least pick up some scrap of sound from the other side, but either the door was too solid or the other side was empty. Nonetheless she gave Chris a thumbs up and slid the safety off her gun.

They barged into the room.

They had landed in what seemed to be the grand library of the Estate, at least four times the size of the trap room downstairs. Shelves lined the walls to the ceiling, and all of them were packed full of books of every size and color.

The outer wall consisted of a row of windows and the only furniture in the room was a long, empty dining table illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in through the windows.

But that was not what paralyzed Jill to the spot.

They had finally found Ozwell Spencer.

Or at least, what was left of him. Sprawled on the marble floor, drowning in a pool of his own blood was the mind behind Umbrella.

Towering above him stood no other than Albert Wesker, a man who should have seen his grave eight years ago. He regarded his right hand with calm contemplation, the black leather glove soaked in Spencer's blood.

Jill looked at Wesker's feet where their quarry lay dead and suddenly all the carnage in the Estate made a sickening kind of sense.

"I fear you missed the show." Wesker's voice carried over in an informative tone. "Punctuality is a necessity, if you want to witness the end of a legacy." He wiped his glove on his leather coat and turned to them fully. "I had expected you to be faster, you know."

"WESKER!" Chris barked and reached for his gun, but retained enough common sense to stay where he was. The hatred between the two men was tangible. Chris stood bristling with unconcealed rage, his teeth bared and his stance feral.

Wesker's lips curled back in a disgusted sneer, his chin tilted proudly. Their former Captain looked them up and down and raised an eyebrow as his gaze settled languidly on their weapons.

"Surely I trained you to go into such a mission better prepared than that, Chris?" he observed in quiet, mocking tones, and Jill started to get a very real feel for how utterly fucked they were. The instinctive part of her was scanning the room for a nonexistent point of retreat.

Chris let out a cross between a grunt and a growl, keeping his teeth pressed together so hard that his jaw looked as if it would break.

"And Jill..." Wesker gestured to the female agent with a motion which would have seemed, in any other circumstance, graciously polite. "You look well." The hard undercurrent in his tone made it clear that he had every intention of altering that fact.

He was deliberately riling them up. Jill realized this with every clarity there was, but she only had to throw a glance at Chris to see that he fell for it all along. Chris had always had a short temper and his obsession with Wesker hadn't exactly bettered the situation. Now, finally faced with his long-time nemesis, she feared that her partner was going to screw up, epically.

She observed him from the corner of her eye as Wesker continued to taunt them. It was going to happen any moment now. He was going to explode and live out the burst of negative emotions he'd hoarded for eight years straight. And that was going to cost them both dearly. Wesker was no foe to be underestimated, had not been an easy duellist back in the times when his veins hadn't pumped virus blood.

So Jill did the best she could come up with, raised the gun and fired a bullet straight at Albert Wesker, initiating the fight that was going to end in their deaths.


	13. Chapter XIII

Chapter XIII

In a flash, Wesker dodged.

He moved so quickly that it seemed as though he'd disappeared and reappeared directly in front of Jill. With one gloved hand, he reached up and closed his fingers around her throat, driving her backwards against one of the mahogany pillars and lifting her clean off her feet.

Chris sprinted towards his partner, unable to shake a sickening feeling of finality. He charged at Wesker with his shoulder, pushing his knife against the man's throat. He didn't even manage to break the skin before he was rewarded with an impossibly swift uppercut to the jaw.

"Is that the best you've got, you son of a bitch?" he screamed, all the while anxiously glancing at Jill. She had sunken to the floor, clutching her throat while she tried to breath through swollen airways.

"I have a lot more, Chris," Wesker's voice boomed, echoing off the walls. He treaded casually as he approached Chris, as if they were not fighting it out to death but merely having a happy reunion party.

The next time he blinked Wesker had vanished from his spot and reappeared only a step away from him, throwing a follow-up of kicks and punches. From the barrage of hits Chris braced himself for shattered bones as the best possible outcome. Wesker's open palm caught him in the ribs, and he heard an instantaneous crack. But the other man was still toying with his prey, and the look of amusement on his face told Chris that his former boss was only just getting started.

He scrambled and failed to dodge another blow, returning it with his hardest punches. They barely even registered with his opponent.

A moment later Wesker paused and Chris could have sworn he actually winced, the briefest flash of pain crossing his face before he resumed his customary sneer. He reached back and pulled out a knife as though he was picking out a splinter. Behind him stood Jill, a little out of breath, but quite successful at literally backstabbing their former Captain.

As Wesker turned around to her he grabbed the man by the arm in an attempt to pull him away from his partner.

But he yanked free from his grip with ease, using the momentum to elbow Chris in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. Blood ran freely from his nose, tears rimmed his cheeks and dark patches threatened his vision.

A punch from Wesker was like being hit by an oncoming train.

Meanwhile, Jill received her punishment. He didn't catch a lot of the fight, partly because of the white spots he was seeing, partly because Wesker's broad body concealed most of Jill's figure. What he did see was his partner going to her knees after the third blow. Her face was contorted in pain as she clutched her guts, a weak groan carrying over to him. Wesker took a step back, allowing him full vision.

"You disappoint me. To think you were my best, the elite..." He looked at them, debating his next move.. "Come on now," he hissed. "Get up. Both of you."

Chris was on his feet in an instant, pain forgotten as he charged, launching himself at the man with his knife at the ready. Wesker raised his forearm and deflected the blow, the blade merely biting through his jacket. A couple of tiny drops of blood spilled to the floor before Wesker robbed him of his weapon and sent it clattering to the ground.

Chris delivered a left hook to his face,. His sunglasses went flying, but there was no other perceptible damage. His ex-Captain grabbed him by his collar and lifted him clean off his feet. Chris kicked out at his chest, slamming his heel into Wesker's sternum, but aside from a flash of annoyance, it did little to loosen his enemy's grip.

So Chris did the only conceivable thing a person might do in such a situation. He spat right into Wesker's face.

But before he could act Jill was there again, crossing the distance to the fighting pair with an agility he was surprised to see with all her injuries. She had her handgun equipped and before either of them could act she placed it against Wesker's head and pulled the trigger until the weapon clicked empty.

But the tyrant man's reflexes were so quick that there seemed, to Chris, no time at all between Jill firing the first shot and Wesker gracefully slipping to the side, allowing the bullet to lodge itself in one of the mahogany fixtures of the room.

That suddenly explained the holes in the previous hallway. The murder mystery was solved, at last. Or was it?

The second bullet grazed Wesker's cheek, a thin sliver of blood running down his face to make his appearance all the more demonic. He let go of Chris and the BSAA operative fell to the floor, gasping and clutching at his throat which was starting to blossom in purple welts.

While Chris choked and spluttered, Wesker languidly wrenched the gun from Jill's grip, staring down at it in thoughtful bemusement.

"Tsk, tsk..." he admonished, shaking his head before cracking Jill across her face with the butt of the pistol. She stumbled back, holding on to a most likely fractured jaw.

"That's what you get for not keeping your mouth shut," Wesker lectured.

Chris groaned in frustration. How could this be nothing more but a game to him, when for them it was the bitter struggle for survival? Why couldn't they injure him, slow him down, or simply get near enough to execute a successful attack without his superhuman reflexes dodging?

Wesker turned back to him, his lips curling into a snarl. "Please accept my apologies for the inconvenience, Chris. Be assured, you're in full possession of my attention now."

And with a speed that was too fast for the human eye to follow he kicked at Chris' throat. Chris attempted to dodge, instinctively recoiling at the first twitch of Wesker's posture. But his former Captain merely changed trajectory mid-strike, as though such an impossible action was effortless to him.

_And is it really so bad?_ He wondered a moment before he hit the wall with a brutally painful thud. At least this way, maybe Jill would have a chance to get out. She had to know it was a losing battle. Maybe if he pissed off Wesker enough, the blond would be too distracted with ripping him apart to notice his partner sneak out.

As he struggled to stay upright he looked over at her, tried to meet her eyes and wasn't sure if he succeeded, because his vision was swimming so badly.

"Geez, Wesker," he choked out between gasps of pain, managing to force a defiant grin. "You gotta throw... a tantrum _every_ time we meet? Or do you just like... showing off how much of a _freak_ you've become?"

He staggered forward to meet the tyrant man, one arm cradling his ribcage, the gun clutched firmly in the other. It wasn't much, but fuck it, he'd go down fighting and give Jill a chance.

"Face it, _Albert_..." He spat the older man's name out along with a large clump of sticky blood. "...you're pathetic. All these years and how many times did you fuck things up? You were a joke of a Captain, you were a pathetic coward at the Ashford base. Even in Russia you had the chance to get rid of me and you were too much of a pussy... and now you go about murdering old men for kicks." He met Wesker's snake-like eyes with his own accusing stare. "You might be pumped full of all the shit in the world to keep you superhuman, but it doesn't matter one damned bit because you're still weak. You're just another one of Umbrella's failed experiments."

He risked a glance over to Jill, who stood, dumbfounded, and watched his little monologue. He knew that he had called doom upon himself, and he'd reserved her show tickets for first row viewing.

_Get the Hell out of here, Jill._

Wesker didn't even raise an eyebrow during the speech. He did not bother to reply to the accusations. There was a far more effective way of showing Chris how the game worked. From one second to the other Wesker was behind him, kicking him in the back. Then he was in the front, punching his ribcage apart. Chris didn't even have the time to realize where the blows came from, even less muster a defence.

Wesker grabbed him by the throat and slammed him onto the nearby table, freeing it of plates and glasses and leaving deep scars in the wood as he pulled Chris across. He absorbed more blows than he could register, up to the point where-

He found himself free of the man's grip, sprawling on the floor, moaning insensibly and hacking up blood.

And suddenly there was an almighty clash of glass shards somewhere behind him and his head jerked up just in time to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

Chris had never gotten to his feet at such a speed. Jill had rammed Wesker with all her might, catching the tyrant man off-guard for once. Then they were both gone, leaving nothing behind but an eerie silence and a pile of broken glass.

"JILL!" he screamed out hoarsely, his injuries forgotten as he ran towards the broken window.

"JILL!"

But the only reply was the howling of the wind outside the Estate.

He looked around the room again frantically, one more time, his brain refusing to comprehend that she'd been there a moment ago and now she was gone. Gripping the edges of the destroyed window sash, not caring about the splinters of glass which bit into his hands, he leaned out of the window and screamed her name over and over again. And every time, the only one who answered him was the angry sea that splashed against the mansion walls, crying victory over the two souls it had just swallowed.

Eventually Chris' physical condition gave out. His knees buckled beneath him. Sinking to the ground, he kept gripping the window frame for as long as he could, before collapsing in a heap amidst the debris and shards.

"Jill..." he whispered her name like a prayer, his voice hoarse and broken.

His shoulders slumped and his hands, which had been balled into fists, went limp.

And then, slowly at first, and gathering momentum like a wave about to break on the shore, it hit him with an almighty crash. That empty, frightened feeling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling that would still be there when the BSAA's backup troops found him, unmoved from this position on the floor. The feeling that would grow worse and worse while he recuperated, the feeling that would grow into despair and self loathing and never, ever again leave him.

Because she was gone, and she'd done it for _him._

**THE END**

_Came the last night of sadness  
And it was clear she couldn't go on  
Then the door was open and the wind appeared  
The candles blew then disappeared  
The curtains flew then he appeared_

_(saying don't be afraid)  
_

_Come on baby_

_(and she had no fear)  
And she ran to him_

_(then they started to fly)  
They looked backward and said goodbye_

_(she had become like they are)  
She had taken his hand_

_(she had become like they are)  
Come on baby_

_(don't fear the reaper)_

_- Blue Oyster Cult  
_

**Yes, people, in the words of Michael Jackson: This is it.**

**It was a long hard journey for everyone involved, but I want to thank those readers who stayed with us till the end. Also, a basket of cookies and chocolate to notanotherfanficauthor who did a marvelous job at writing Chris. This story would have never made it without her.**

**I'm not sure what I'll be writing next, so that's why you guys don't get a preview. Currently I'm up to my eyeballs into writing The Serpent (under The Unholy Trio). I suggest you check that one out until I come up with more Chaed-ness.  
**

**So as a last word: THANK YOU AND SEE YOU SOON!**


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